


Clint Barton x Reader One Shots

by DaisyErina



Series: Avengers x Reader One Shots [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, Fluff, Other, Reader Insert, clin barton x reader, clint barton - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 48,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6272026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyErina/pseuds/DaisyErina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On FF.net and Quotev, I have an Avengers x Reader One Shots series. On here and Wattpad, I've separated them by character. I apologize if the descriptions are sucky. More recent requests will have the original request plot in the beginning. Older ones, like the entire Steve series, I had to come up with a quick description while posting them. They were written quite some time ago. I don't remember every story exactly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fairy Tale Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're afraid that Clint will be upset that you're pregnant

**Fairy Tale Baby – Clint Barton**

 

You storm away from your boyfriend, angry tears prickling behind your eyes. Your jaw is tight and your fists are clenched as you slam the door to the bedroom of your shared apartment and lock your boyfriend out of it. You throw yourself on the bed and allow yourself to shed a few wounded tears, burying your face in the crook of your arm as you lay on your stomach.  
You roll onto your back, absent-mindedly resting a hand on your belly. You recently discovered that there was a baby growing in there, the product of the deep, passionate love shared between you and your boyfriend, Clint Barton. You were ecstatic upon hearing the news, and of course assumed that your lover would be, too.  
Clint disappointed you more deeply than you could ever imagine. You know he loves you, deep down, but his reaction to you informing him that you’re going to have a baby was way below encouraging. He simply stared at you, wide-eyed, as though you had told him that you were leaving him, or something equally tragic – certainly not the warm, happy, excited reaction that you had.  
So you lie in your shared bed, fresh tears streaming down your face, dripping into your hair and down your ears as you lift an arm to wipe them away. Did he not love you? Was he not happy that you were carrying his baby? Did he not want to have children with you?  
Sure, work is hard for both of you. He’s an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and you’re an aspiring actress, which means that both of you will have to spend lots of time away from home and each other, and once you start to show you won’t be getting as many movie roles, which will bring down your income, but you always thought that if this situation ever arose, you’d both make it work.  
Well, you thought sadly, grasping a tissue from the box on the bedside table and wiping your nose. I guess it’s up to me. You run your hand over your belly again, silently promising your unborn child that you’ll love him or her twice as much to make up for Daddy’s lack of enthusiasm.

Tony’s organized yet another party, full of booze and girls and mixing the two, and of course, The Avengers. You had initially declined the invitation, thinking you’d rather stay home with some hot herbal tea and read fairy tales to your womb than go to Stark Tower to face the blaring music and the boyfriend that you’ve been ignoring. He’s been spending more time at Stark Tower, since you refuse to speak to him and leave the room as soon as he enters.  
But you figure that a night out might be good for you, maybe get your mind off of Clint’s less-than-satisfactory response and actually have some fun. You’ve got a bit part in a few episodes of a new television series coming up, but nothing lined up after that, and before too long you’ll be too big to do much acting or partying. So you decide to attend Stark’s party and enjoy your time before all of your focus goes to your baby.  
You’re only a couple of weeks along, so the only signs of pregnancy that others might pick up on is your decline of alcohol (not that you drink very much anyway), your growing, changing appetite, and your wonderfully unstable mood swings.  
You realize that you have about half an hour before you told yourself that you should leave for the party, so you pad back to your bedroom and open the closet, looking at all of your party dresses. All of them will still fit you perfectly, as your belly is about as flat as it was two weeks ago. You select a (f/c) strapless dress that stops about mid-thigh and hugs your curves as well as your chest. The fabric appears to wrap around your body like a sheet, with rhinestones adorning the hem and tiny fabric roses decorating the neckline. You then move to the bathroom and pull out your favorite makeup and hair accessories, running a brush through your (hair type) (h/c) locks before pinning your hair up in a messy but cute bun, a few strands hanging down by your ears, outlining your face. You line your eyes with (f/c) liner and brush some mascara onto your lashes. You line your lips with your favorite plumping gloss and smile at your reflection before exiting the room. You pluck your purse from its position on the floor, ensuring that your car keys and cell phone are included. You slip on a pair of (f/c) pumps with ankle straps before leaving your apartment and locking the door behind you. You make your way out to your car and take your time driving to Stark Tower.  
Once there, you get out of and lock your car, taking your purse with you into the tower. You smile as Jarvis greets you and buzzes you in. You ride the elevator in near silence taking a breath as the doors slide open and you realize how many people are already here, even though the party has only been going for half an hour. You step out of the elevator, looking around to see if Hawkeye was in sight. You weave through the sea of people in search of the bar. You’re dying for a (fave non-alcoholic drink).  
You squeeze through the people and jump onto a bar stool, setting your purse beneath your feet. Tony smirks at you as he appears on the business side of the bar.  
“What can I getcha, babe?” he asks.  
You order your drink, ignoring the raise of his brow as he realizes that your order is non-alcoholic.  
“No booze?” he questions, feigning hurt.  
“No booze,” you agree, nodding your thanks as he hands you your drink.  
“Why no booze?” he inquires.  
“I just don’t want booze tonight,” you insist, taking a sip of your drink.  
“(Name)!” a loud, masculine voice hollers. You turn your head in the direction of the sound and grin as Thor runs over to you, his bulky arms outstretched, ready for a hug. You stand from your stool and hold your own arms out, laughing as he picks you up and twirls you. You haven’t been spending as much time around the rest of the Avengers as you usually do, between trying to find acting gigs and moping about your boyfriend’s reaction and trying to reorganize your life around your future baby.  
Thor sets you down gently, almost as though he knows. “I have missed you, Lady (name).”  
“I’ve missed you too, Thor,” you tell him sincerely. You and Thor had become quite good friends after you and Hawkeye got together.  
“How are things between you and the Hawk?” Thor inquires. “He has not been himself as of late.”  
You unknowingly hold your breath as Tony and Thor stare at you, awaiting an answer.  
“He’s right,” Tony adds. “Bird Boy has been kinda off for the past couple of weeks. Almost depressed.”  
You bite back a snort of irony. Him, depressed? You were the pregnant one, the one he practically abandoned. “We’re just… in a fight…”  
“A fight over what? Thor wonders, genuinely concerned. You can’t help but smile as his blonde brows furrow together in worry. He’s always so caring of his teammates.  
“It’s nothing,” you lie. “It’ll blow over in time.”  
Tony eyes you suspiciously while Thor’s bright smile slowly returns. As you return to your seat and sip your drink, Steve makes his way through the crowd to greet you. “Hello, (name).”  
“Hey, Steve,” you smile.  
“Are things alright with you and Clint? He seems very upset,” Steve inquires.  
You sigh, lowering your gaze to the ground.  
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the Captain apologizes. “I didn’t mean to pry.”  
“No, it’s alright,” you insist. “It’s just that Thor and Tony just asked me the same thing.”  
Steve nods understandingly, not pressing the question any further. You turn your gaze to the crowd, watching as dozens of people you’ve never seen mingle and dance, some with drinks in their hands. Your eyes scan a plush leather couch near the corner of the room where Clint is sitting with Natasha. Clint does appear upset, you notice, and Natasha appears to be attempting to comfort him. He lifts his gaze and meets your eye, and you quickly turn away and go back to your drink.  
Tony watches as you obviously avoid your boyfriend, wondering what could possibly be the problem. He rests his forearms on the bar and leans across, his face inches from yours. He lowers his voice and whispers, “Did he cheat on you?”  
Your eyes widen at the absurd idea and bark out a laugh. “No, of course not.”  
“Did he make fun of your acting?”  
“Why would he do that?”  
“Did he build a bird nest without telling you?”  
“What?”  
“Tell me what happened!” Tony cries desperately.  
“Don’t worry about it!” you cry back.  
Thor, Steve, Clint and Natasha have all turned their attention to you and Tony. You rest your elbow on the bar and your forehead in your palm.  
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Steve asks softly, resting a hand on your shoulder.  
“Can I be of assistance?” Thor questions, standing on your other side.  
“I could use something to eat,” you muse.  
“What would you like?” Steve questions.  
“Something covered in chocolate,” you decide.  
“Anything in specific?” Thor asks.  
You think for a minute. “Cucumbers.”  
“Cucumbers… covered in chocolate?” Tony questions.  
“That sounds amazing…” you nod.  
Tony eyes you suspiciously as Steve raids the fridge and cupboards in search of your request. Tony watches you, taking in your determination to not tell him why you’re not talking to Clint, your strange food craving, and the fact that you insisted on a non-alcoholic beverage. He thinks back to his conversations with Pepper when she was trying to help him understand women. His eyes widen and he grins at you.  
“You’re pregnant!” he whisper-yells.  
Your eyes widen in return. “What makes you say that?”  
“You won’t drink booze, you won’t tell me what happened with you and Bird Boy, you’re craving chocolate-covered cucumbers, and now you’re panicking. You. Are. Pregnant,” he declares with a nod.  
Thor stares at you. “That is most wonderful news, Lady (name)!”  
You bite your own lip. “Keep it down!”  
“Does Clint know?” Steve asks, returning to the bar with your snack.  
Your eyes cast down to the bar. “Yes…”  
“Then what’s the problem?” the Captain questions.  
“Nothing…” you mumble.  
“Please confide in us, Lady (name),” Thor pleads quietly.  
You sigh, turning your head to find Clint and Natasha staring at you, wondering what your conversation was about. You turned back to the guys. “He… He wasn’t happy…” you whisper.  
“How do you mean?” Thor asks, confused.  
You rise from the bar and grab your purse from the floor, gesturing for the boys to follow you. With one last glance towards Clint and Natasha, you lead the boys to the closest bedroom which happens to be Tony’s.  
“Why are we in here?” Steve asks.  
“Privacy,” you explain, sitting on Tony’s bed. You sigh as they all sit around you. “I told Clint that I’m pregnant and… he just stared at me. He looked at me like I told him I was leaving him or something, and he didn’t even say anything!” You stare down at your lap, hand resting on your belly. “It was like he didn’t want me to be pregnant…”  
“I’m sure Clint’s happy about it,” Steve insists, resting a hand on your knee.  
“The Hawk has deep feelings for you,” Thor adds.  
“Bird Boy loves you, babe,” Tony says, resting a hand on your back. “He was probably just shocked. I’d be stunned too if Pepper gave me news like that. He’s just not ready to be a daddy, or he thinks he isn’t.”  
“It’s gonna be hard for you two, with Clint being an agent,” Steve reminds you.  
“Do you really think he’s happy?” you mumble. The three nod their heads and offer you comforting hugs before leaving the room. You follow them only to run into Clint. You bite your lip as you look at him, unsure of what to say.  
“Can we talk?” he asks, sounding hurt.  
You nod and lead him away from the crowd. You find a sitting area with a few chairs and no party-goers and take a seat.  
“I’m so sorry, (name),” he begins. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I was just scared. I’m not ready to be a father. My job doesn’t give me enough time off to be a good father.”  
“You think I’m not scared?” you challenge. “I’m terrified. I’m barely an actress as it is and once I start showing no one will hire me. I’ll have no money coming in. And I’m scared of your job being in the way, that you won’t be able to spend a lot of time with our baby. But I love this baby, and I love what it symbolizes.”  
Clint stands in front of you, extending his arms to you. You reluctantly accept his hands and stand, looking up at him.  
“I love you, (name),” he says sincerely, resting his forehead on yours. “And I love this baby. I was just stunned. I didn’t expect you to get pregnant so soon; I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to support us, and that my job would keep me away.”  
You look at the floor, embarrassed. “It sounded like you didn’t want me to be pregnant. I thought you were upset with me… Like you didn’t want to be with me anymore…”  
He wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. He rests his cheek on the top of your head. “Please, don’t ever think that. I love you, more than anything. I am honestly excited that you’re having my baby. I always want to be with you.”  
You look up at him, tears prickling the corners of your eyes. He lifts a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the unshed tears. He presses a kiss to your lips which you eagerly return.  
“I love you, (name).”  
“I love you too, Clint.”  
He smiles and kisses your forehead. “Does this mean I can come back to the apartment?”  
You giggle. “Please do. It’s lonely there without you. I think the baby knows you’re not around.”  
“Well I’ll have to stick around then,” he promises, wrapping his hand around yours and lacing your fingers together. You squeeze his hand gently, causing him to smile.  
“Let’s go home,” you say softly. He leans down and pecks your lips before nodding.  
“Let’s go home.”

Once back at the apartment, you drop your purse on the floor and collapse on the couch. Clint sits beside you and kisses your cheek, wrapping his arms around you. You curl into his arms, resting your head on his chest. As you sigh contently, Clint’s gaze wanders to the coffee table and his brow rises as he notices the book of fairy tales you’d left there.  
“What’s that?” he inquires. You follow his gaze and smile.  
“Fairy tales. I was reading to the baby.”  
“Reading to the baby? Isn’t the baby super tiny right now?”  
You giggle. “It is, but I read online that reading to the baby no matter how early in the pregnancy is good for you. The baby can hear you eventually while it’s still in the womb, so it’s good for you to communicate.”  
He chuckles and kisses your nose. “You’re adorable, you know that?”  
You smile, stretching up to capture his lips. You soon fall asleep, your head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped securely around you.


	2. Rescue Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint saves you

**Rescue Me**  
Request for Loki’s Sassy Sweetheart

You’re walking down the streets of Manhattan, eyes closed contentedly as the sounds of your favorite song flow through your headphones into your ears. You completely ignore the roar of nearby engines and the chatter of rushing people. You’re in your own little world, and you like it that way.  
You open your eyes as you near the end of the sidewalk, preferring not to be flattened like a pancake by cross traffic. You tap the crosswalk button with your fist and lean against the post as you wait for the light to change. You scan your eyes across the intersection, smiling yourself as you take in the New York sights. People are much more cautious now after Loki’s alien attack, but lives have returned to normal and with Christmas soon approaching, people are bustling through the streets to finalize their shopping and party-planning.  
The light you’re waiting for changes and the green crosswalk symbol illuminates. As you turn your head to look back across the street and begin walking, your heart skips a beat. You hadn’t realized Stark Tower was so close, and you didn’t expect to see the man who saved your life standing in front of it. Your legs cease working and you stand frozen in the street. You gaze across the road at the man chatting with his fellow Avengers and your mind wanders back to that day.

_Citizens are running and screaming in terror as unidentified alien monsters crash into buildings and throw cars like baseballs. You’re one of the screaming citizens, running through the highly unsafe streets of Manhattan in search of undestroyed shelter. You turn a seemingly empty corner and rest a hand on the unbroken wall of an old building, bending over slightly to rest your other hand on your knee and attempt to catch your breath. Your chest is heavy with fear and you close your eyes for just a moment.  
Bad idea.  
As soon as your guard is down, one of the alien monsters decides to pick you up and hold you hostage. You scream as loud as you can, believing this to be your inevitable doom. You’re just a mortal; no fame, no powers, no special mark on society. The Avengers wouldn’t halt their world-saving battle just for you. What’s your singular life against a thousand others?  
The alien decides to land on the roof of the building you were resting against and holds you out, dangling you over the roof. You have no way of catching yourself if it lets you go… You’re too far from the edge to grab hold, and the only thing below you is cold hard concrete.  
You don’t even bother to scream as the monster opens its clutch and releases its hold on you. You squeeze your eyes shut and cross your arms over your chest, awaiting the crash and burn of plummeting to the ground.  
You suddenly stop against a force stronger than you, but it’s not the sidewalk. Opening one eye you look up to find the face of your savior – one of the Avengers. You open both eyes and blush upon realizing that he’s holding you close bridal style. You look around and notice that you’re both in the air. Looking down you see that he’s confiscated one of the alien air machines (1) and has used it to save you from your death.  
“Thank you…” you mumble out as the Avenger known as Hawkeye lands the machine and sets you gently on the ground.  
“Anytime,” he replies with a smirk before riding back into the air and attacking more aliens.  
You can’t help but stare after him in awe. Your chest bubbles with warmth as a smile creeps across your face. An Avenger just went out of his way to save you._

You’re snapped out of your memory by the loud honking of cars trying to drive around you.  
“Hey, lady!” one angry man yells. “Get outta the road!”  
“Move it, woman!” another calls. “You’re blocking traffic!”  
Embarrassed, you look at the ground as you run across the street. You spare one glance towards the Tower as you reach the sidewalk, your face beaming with embarrassed heat as you see that your savior is looking right at you. You look back to the ground – there’s no way he still remembers.  
“Hey,” a soft, deep voice calls. You hear footsteps approaching you and you look up shyly.  
“I remember you,” he says with a soft smile. “I saved you from a Chitauri creep.”  
Blushing more, you nod.  
“I saved a lot of people that day, but none of them were so accepting of their potential fate. They all screamed and flailed – makes it really hard to rescue someone if they won’t stop moving.”  
Biting your lip, you offer a small smile. “I just didn’t think I’d make it if the monster dropped me off that ledge… You were all busy fighting Loki and the rest of his army, and there was nothing for me to catch myself on…”  
“I liked saving you,” he admits. “You seemed grateful, but you didn’t hang all over me like a lovesick puppy. You’re a good damsel in distress.” He chuckles.  
You give a small giggle. “Thanks, I think.”  
“What’s your name?”  
“Macey.”  
“Beautiful,” he smiles. “Just like you.”  
If your face could possibly heat up anymore, it would now.  
“If you’re not too busy blocking traffic in the middle of an intersection,” he smirks, “could I buy you a cup of coffee?”  
Looking up at your savior and Avenger crush, you nod. “That sounds nice.”  
He smiles and offers you a hand, which you hesitantly take as he leads you to a nearby café.

*One Year Later*  
You smile to yourself as you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, adding the finishing touches to your hair. You’ve curled your (h/l) (h/c) hair, letting it fall on your shoulders elegantly. You’ve applied just enough makeup to accent your eyes and lips, and you’re wearing the most beautiful (f/c) dress you’ve ever seen. Your boyfriend Clint had picked it out specially for you, and it fit you perfectly. It has a sweetheart neckline with thin straps, it’s form-fitting from your chest to your hips, and the skirt flows elegantly to your feet. Its base layer is a beautiful (f/c) and it has a layer of lighter (f/c) lace on top that sparkles in the right light.  
You’re strapping on your high-heeled strappy sandals when your boyfriend knocks on the bathroom door. “You almost ready, babe?”  
“Ready,” you call out, unlocking the door so he can open it.  
His jaw nearly drops to the floor. “You look stunning.”  
You giggle. “Thank you, love.”  
He smiles and offers his arm to you, causing you to smile and link your arm in his.  
“Shall we?”  
You nod.

You bounce your leg absent-mindedly with anticipation. Clint refuses to tell you where he’s taking you for your one-year anniversary.  
“I don’t even get a hint?” you whine playfully.  
Clint chuckles. “You’ll know it when you see it.”  
“That’s not a hint,” you pout.  
“Close your eyes,” he instructs. You raise a brow and assume that it won’t be much of a surprise if you see where he parks the car, so you comply. You even cover your eyes with your hands so he doesn’t worry about you peeking.  
He steps out of the car and walks around it to open your door and help you out. You drop one hand from your eyes and lace your fingers with his, letting him lead you to your destination.  
“Alright, babe,” he says, stopping. “Open your eyes.”  
You drop your other hand and slowly open your eyes, which widen at the sight in front of you. You’re standing in front of the café where you became his girlfriend.  
“Oh, Clint…” you breathe in awe.  
He smiles and leads you inside, glad to find your table empty. The same table you sat at when he asked you out.  
You take your seat just as you had a year ago, smiling all the while. Clint goes up to the counter and orders your favorite drink and a (f/f) muffin. He soon returns with your treats and sits across from you.  
“This is great, Clint,” you smile, taking a sip of your coffee.  
“I was thinking we could catch a movie after this, maybe a late dinner,” he tells you, sipping his own coffee.  
“Sounds wonderful.”  
He smiles and leans across the table, one hand reaching out to gently cup your face.  
You lean into his hand and lean forward as well, meeting his lips with yours.  
“Happy anniversary, Macey,” he whispers against your lips.  
You smile and return the sentiment, resting your forehead against his.

 

(1) That thing that Natasha rides when she jumps off Captain’s shield and attacks the alien…


	3. Girl All The Good Guys Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gets jealous when other guys flirt with you

**Girl All The Good Guys Want**  
Request for jadedragon2141

 

You had done it. You became a SHIELD agent and an Avenger. All on your own – with the help of your power, of course.  
Some months back, you had been kidnapped by some big bad guy that SHIELD happened to be watching, and he happened to be a genetic scientist of sorts. After knocking you out, thanks to your lack of self-defense knowledge, they had run tests on you, trying this and that to see if they could create a mutant.  
They did. After infusing you with God-knows-what, they had given you super speed. You were, quite literally, faster than a speeding bullet. You put The Flash to shame.  
Having such a power demanded earning you a nickname, and Tony was more than happy to take the responsibility of doing so. He was certainly the friendliest of the bunch (probably because you were a young, beautiful girl), always flirting and talking to you. He had also decided to throw a party (big surprise there) in your honor after you had been officially dubbed an agent and an Avenger.

It was at said party that the other Avengers began acting strangely. Loki was a good guy now (which wasn’t the strange part), having mended his ways and repented for his sins, eventually deciding that conquering Midgard was too much work and that the king of Asgard would have to die of natural causes some day, and he could take over the realm then.  
The other Avengers and agents had been nice to you upon your admission. Steve was polite to everyone, of course, as was Bruce. Natasha was a bit distant, but she appreciated having another girl around. Clint liked sparring with you, shooting arrows at you as fast as he could to see how fast you could dodge them. Thor had been the most welcoming, enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug the second he heard the news. Agents Coulson and Hill offered their sincere congratulations, shaking your hand professionally. After speaking with Natasha, you learned that they weren’t the most social of agents, considering that their duties usually lied within the building, dealing with the inner workings of SHIELD rather than field work.  
So, overall, you had a whole team of new best friends.  
But tonight, they were acting strangely. Steve was acting overly nervous, as though he was on a first date with a girl. He kept scooting closer to you wherever you sat, then rubbing his shoulder against yours and blushing.  
Bruce kept offering to refresh your drink or fetch you a snack, and when he returned (or stayed where he was because you declined), he’d keep asking you questions and trying to get to know you better.  
Loki, of all people, had been particularly interested in you that night. He stayed close to you, intently listening to everything you had to say, putting his two cents in whenever he could. As soon as Bruce and Steve left for one reason or another, Loki would swoop in and talk you up before anyone else could catch your attention.  
It was as if someone had cast a love spell on the three, but the only one capable of doing that would be Loki. He wouldn’t cast a spell on himself, would he? To make himself fall in love?  
Psh, no. That’d be crazy. Plus, he wasn’t allowed to use magic without permission, and nothing involving an unwilling participant or that would negatively affect another person, and no magic in public. Fury said so, lest Loki get locked back up in his glass cage.  
You shook your head and sipped your drink, wondering what had gotten into those three to make them follow you like lovesick puppies.  
Towards the end of the night, you happened to notice that Clint had been rather distant all night. You wondered why, given that the two of you had been bonding pretty well lately, or so you thought. Why would he suddenly ignore you?  
You wondered if his distance had anything to do with the high levels of attention you were receiving from Steve, Bruce, and Loki. You shook your head again, clearing that thought. That would mean Clint was jealous, and why would he be jealous of you getting attention from someone else?

The following morning, Steve, Bruce, and Loki continued following you around and acting like lovesick puppies. Steve offered to make you breakfast while Bruce made you coffee and Loki gave you a neck rub. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t enjoy the attention. You didn’t have to lift a finger as long as these three were fawning over you.  
And damn were they good at their assigned tasks. Steve made the best pancakes you’d ever eaten, Bruce knew how to doctor up your cup of coffee and make it taste like Heaven, and Loki’s fingers turned your neck muscles into pudding.  
While you were inhaling your delicious breakfast and milking the attention, a certain archer was watching from the vents, a scowl staining his features and jealousy stabbing at his chest.

A few days back, between the Avengers hearing the news of their new recruit and them throwing a party in your honor, Clint had promised to teach you archery. You had always found it fascinating, but you had no one to teach you and couldn’t afford classes.  
You wondered if you could use said promise as an excuse to talk to the newly-distant archer.  
“Jarvis?” you called to the ceiling.  
“Yes, miss (l/n)?” the AI replied.  
“Is Clint in his room or the archery gym?”  
“Archery gym, miss (l/n).”  
“Thanks, Jarvis.”  
“Of course, miss (l/n).”

You made your way to the appropriate floor and wandered through the halls to the archery gym. Sure enough, Clint was there, firing arrow after arrow at the poor holy target. There was much more “hole” left than there was “target.”  
“Hey, Clint,” you said softly, hoping not to startle him.  
He fired another arrow before turning towards you silently.  
“Hey, uh.. You promised me you’d give me an archery lesson sometime. I was wondering if we could do that…” You looked at the floor, suddenly feeling guilty for disturbing him. He looked rather busy and not particularly in the mood for company.  
His own expression softened at seeing your saddened one. “Sure.”  
“Really??” you clarified, eyes lighting up with excitement.  
He chuckled and nodded before gesturing you to come closer. You bounced over and stood beside him, awaiting instruction.  
“Here,” he said, handing you his special bow.  
Your eyes widened again. “You’re letting me use yours?”  
He shrugged. “Sure. If you’re gonna learn from the best, you might as well learn with the best, right?”  
You grinned and nodded.  
“Okay, now put your left hand here…” he gently grasped your left hand and placed it on the bow. Your breath hitched and your heart skipped a beat as his hand enveloped yours.  
You’d had a crush on the famous Hawkeye for some time now, but you’d never gotten this close.  
“Now, your right hand takes an arrow…” he added, handing you an arrow.  
“And you pull it back like this…” He stood behind you now, arms around yours, hands atop your own, pulling you into the correct position. You looked down at his feet and moved your own to copy them.  
“And let it go,” he finished. You did, and nearly jumped for joy when it hit the bull’s eye.  
“I did it!”  
He chuckled. “You did. Good job for a first try.”  
“Well, you did say I was learning from the best,” you giggled.  
He smiled for a second before it fell. Your brows furrowed together in worry. “Something wrong?”  
“Why do you have to torment me?” he asked quietly, eyes clouded with hurt.  
You actually had to take a step back. “What are you talking about?”  
“You call me the best, you say I’m your best friend, we hang out all the time… and then I see you with them, flirting and laughing, like I don’t even exist.” The hurt slowly fades into anger.  
“Who’s ‘them’? What’s this about, Clint?”  
“Them!” he cries. “Steve, Bruce… Loki, of all people! I saw them at the party, fawning over you like dogs. And I saw you this morning. You were loving the attention!”  
“Clint…” you breathed, waiting for the pieces to fall into place. “Clint, I don’t know why they’ve been so… friendly lately. I thought it was weird too. It was no doing of mine. Yes, I took advantage of it this morning, because I’ve always had to do everything by myself. I’ve never had someone make me food or give me a neck rub just because. There always had to be a reason, a special occasion. I don’t know why they did it but it was a nice break from being so independent.”  
“…You don’t know why?”  
“No, I don’t. They’re acting like they’re under a love spell but there’s no way that’s possible.”  
He paused. “What if… they actually love you?”  
You paused as well. “Well… I highly doubt that all three of them have fallen in love with me… I wouldn’t think that even one of them would do that… But if they have, then I’m sorry but it’s bad news for them.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I love- my heart belongs to someone else.”  
“And who might that someone be?”  
He stepped closer to you, stopping a few inches away.  
“Someone…”  
“Do I know him?”  
“Yes, very well.”  
“Is he an Avenger?”  
“Yes.”  
“Is it Tony?”  
“What?! No!”  
“Thor?”  
“No…”  
“Who does that leave then? If it’s not Steve, Bruce, Loki, Tony, or Thor…”  
You bit your lip and looked at the floor, waiting for him to understand.  
“…It’s me?”  
You continued looking at the floor.  
A strong hand hooked under your chin, tilting your head up.  
“Is it me?”  
Still biting your lip, you nodded.  
Smirking, he moved his hand from under your chin to the side of your face, cupping your cheek. He pulled your face closer, pressing his lips to yours. You gasped in surprise before melting into the kiss, wrapping your own arms around his waist.  
“I fell for you the day I met you,” he said breathlessly.  
“So did I,” you replied. He smiled and kissed you again, tangling a hand in your hair.

“Jarvis, you recorded that, right?”  
“Of course, Sir.”

A few days later, you and Clint announced your relationship to the team. They all congratulated you – Natasha even hugged you.  
“Finally,” Loki sighed. “Now we can stop this charade.”  
“What charade?” you asked.  
“The one where we pretend to be in love with you to make Clint jealous,” Bruce answered.  
“What?!” Clint barked.  
“It was Tony’s fault!” Steve said innocently. “He told us to flirt with (y/n) to make Clint jealous so he would confess his feelings to her.”  
“Tony!” Clint growled, stomping off towards the billionaire’s room.  
You giggled. “Thanks for everything, you guys. The favors were amazing, and I got a boyfriend out of it!”  
Bruce laughed. “We’re glad it worked out, (y/n).”  
“Now, if you don’t mind me, I’m gonna go watch Tony get punched,” you said cheerfully, dashing off in the direction your boyfriend went.  
“Jarvis?”  
“Yes, Miss Romanov?”  
“Record Tony getting punched, will you?”  
“Yes, Miss Romanov.”


	4. But I Thought...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint thinks you have a thing for Tony

**But I Thought…**  
Request for miles

 

It was no secret that you and Tony had hit it off right away upon your initiation into the Avengers. He was funny and outgoing, always ready to make you laugh when your day was dark and needed brightening. To the untrained eye, one would think the two of you were dating.  
And one did.  
One particular Avenger fully believed that you and Tony Stark were a couple.  
It was understandable, really. You could often be found with the billionaire, watching a movie together or you eating a snack while he worked on his suits. You enjoyed spending time with him, but you didn’t have a crush on him, regardless of what everyone thought. You simply enjoyed that Tony liked making you happy when no one else had time for you.  
In truth, you had a crush on a different Avenger. But no one except for Tony knew that.

After some time, the Avenger with a crush on you began making himself known. He’d appear whenever you and the billionaire were hanging out, and seemed to content himself with pointing out all of the billionaire’s flaws.  
One particular day, you and Tony were in the main entertainment room – you were choosing a movie for the two of you to watch and he was preparing snacks in the adjoining kitchen. Normally you’d be in charge of the snacks, but Tony’s movie interest seemed limited to only films starring half-naked supermodels. After last week’s incident, you had taken it upon yourself to choose the movie and make him get off his butt and get you food.  
In the middle of your selection, Clint Barton appeared behind you, having dropped down from the vent. You jumped lightly in surprise before turning to smile up at him. “Hey, Clint.”  
“Hi, (y/n). What are you doing?”  
“Picking out a movie,” you replied, turning back to the collection. “Tony and I are having a movie night. You wanna join?”  
Before he could stop himself, he inquired, “Why do you hang out with him so much?”  
“What do you mean?” you questioned, standing up to face the archer.  
“Tony. Why are you always with him? There are other people in the Tower, you know.”  
With that, the archer left in a huff. He sounded genuinely upset, with confused and concerned you. You liked to think that you were friends with all of the Avengers, and Clint’s icy tone seemed directed straight at you.  
You had to figure out why.

A week later, the Avengers defeated an army of inhuman foes with few or no injuries to the good guys. As a result, Tony decided to throw yet another celebratory party. Like he needed any more excuses to do so.  
Hoping to catch your crush’s attention, you picked out a (f/c) corseted dress with a sweetheart neckline. The corset hugged your torso and the fabric of the skirt hugged your curves, framing your hips and rear end and flowing elegantly to the floor. It stopped just above the floor, revealing your bare toes which were strapped into high-heeled sandals.  
You made your way to the party floor and smiled as the team greeted you. You made your way to the bar, ordering a (f/drink) as you looked around. Everyone was easily spotted – Tony was dancing with whatever pretty girl would have him, Steve was politely chatting up his fans, Bruce was sitting a few stools away at the bar, Thor was dancing with Jane, and Natasha was keeping an eye on everyone, making sure no laws were broken.  
Well, almost everyone was easily spotted. Clint was nowhere to be found.  
You sighed and sipped your drink as Tony waltzed up to the bar. “What’s up, babe?”  
“Nothing, Tony,” you lied, feigning a smile at the billionaire.  
“Don’t give me that,” he argued, taking a seat beside you. “You’re looking for Clint, aren’t you?”  
He was the only one who knew of your crush on the archer, which caused the two of you to spend many an hour talking. Your encounters largely consisted of him trying to convince you to tell Clint your feelings and you refusing as though your life depended on it.  
“Maybe…” you mumbled.  
“You gotta tell him, babe,” he insisted, resting a hand on your shoulder.  
“I can’t,” you replied, shaking your head.  
Clint chose that moment to arrive. He made his way to the bar for a Rum and Coke, glaring at the two of you.  
Tony elbowed your side, causing you to look up at him in confusion. He jerked his head towards the other side of the bar where Clint was downing his drink. You nearly choked on yours, surprised that the archer was there.  
“I’ll let you two have fun,” Tony excused himself, winking at you before wandering off.  
“Hey, Clint…” you greeted with a smile.  
He grunted in reply.  
“Are you mad at me?” you had to ask.  
He grunted again.  
You looked around, taking in how large the crowed had grown. You stood to grab Clint’s wrist, pleading with your eyes. “Can we talk?”  
With a sigh he agreed, following you down a couple of floors to your room. Once there, you led him inside and closed the door behind you.  
“Seriously,” you began, “are you mad at me?”  
“Yes,” he replied, causing your face to fall. He sighed again. “Maybe. Kind of. I don’t know.”  
“What does that mean?” you inquired, sitting on your bed. He sat beside you, running a hand across his face.  
“I’m mad at a lot of people.”  
“Like who?”  
“You, Tony, myself…”  
“Why?”  
He turned to look at you. “Because I waited too long. I second guessed myself and now the woman I love is with another man.”  
“…The woman you love?”  
“Don’t you get it, (y/n)?” he breathed, facing you fully and resting his hand on yours. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since I met you.” He looked down at his lap. “But you’re with Tony. I get that. I backed off.”  
“You think I’m dating Tony?” you giggled, turning your hand to grasp his.  
He looked back up at you. “Aren’t you?”  
“Of course not! We’re friends and he’s funny but he’s so not my type.”  
“But… you’re always with him. You always hang out and talk…”  
“Exactly. We talk. That’s it,” you insisted, hesitating. “We… We talk about you, actually…”  
“You talk about me?” he smirked.  
“Yeah… He knew that I had a crush on you and he was constantly telling me to tell you but I was too shy…” You looked down at your own lap, a blush claiming your cheeks as you awaited his response.  
A warm hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. There was a pause before warm, chapped lips pressed against your softer ones. The hand on your jaw slid to the back of your head, pulling you closer. You shyly rested your hands in his broad chest as his other arm wrapped around your waist. Just as one of your hands slid up his chest to rest on his neck, you reluctantly pulled your lips away due to lack of air.  
“I’m an idiot,” he breathed against your lips. You giggled and looked up at him.  
“I’d never date Tony.”  
He laughed, pecking your lips again. “Glad to hear it.”


	5. Never Gonna Give You Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You see Clint for the first time since high school

**Never Gonna Give You Up**  
Request for һıɢһĿʏ ғȗṅċṭıọṅıṅɢ ṡọċıọƿåṭһ

“Thank you! Come again!” you called as another content customer left your bakery. You’d had quite a busy morning. Customer after customer filed into your bakery, ordering coffee and cupcakes and muffins left and right.  
You finally got a break as the morning rush ended. You cleaned up the counters and restocked the display case before sitting down on a stool with your own cup of coffee. You took a break as the bell above the door jingled, signaling that another customer had entered. You plastered a smile on your tired face and approached the counter.  
“Hey there, how can I help-” You were cut off as you caught sight of the stranger’s face. No, not stranger.  
“(y/n)?” a familiar voice asked.  
“Clint?” you responded, eyes widening. Clint Barton, your high school crush. You hadn’t seen or heard from him since you both graduated.  
“This is your bakery?” he inquired.  
“Yeah, it is,” you replied shyly.  
“So you did achieve your dream,” he noted with a smile.  
You’d spent so much time in high school taking cooking classes, and you’d gone to college for business classes. You really wanted this bakery.  
“I hear you’re part of SHIELD now,” you stated. You’d seen a few blurbs on the news about SHIELD and the Avengers.  
He nodded. “Tony Stark’s throwing a party and he wants this bakery to provide food.”  
You grabbed your order pad and a pen. “What’s the order?” You scribbled down the archer’s response, smiling as you finished. “When do you need this done by?”  
Clint winced as though he didn’t want to answer. “Five o’clock tonight.”  
You glanced at the Disney clock on the wall, which stated that the current time was just after eleven. “Five should be fine.”  
“Thanks,” he said with a nod. He turned to leave, pausing as his hand rested on the door. “Hey…”  
You looked at him with a raised brow. “Yeah?”  
“You wanna come to the party? Starts at six. You could follow me when I come collect the order.”  
“Can I?” you asked, half excited and half cautious.  
He shrugged. “Sure. I’m allowed to invite people.”  
“I’d love to,” you smiled.  
You saw him return the gesture as he left.

Four o’clock rolled around and the entire order for Stark’s party was finished. You cleaned up the counters and machines, making sure the bakery was ready for closing. You usually stayed open later, but you had to get ready for the party.  
You ran upstairs to the loft which doubled as your apartment. You rummaged through your closet, selecting a (f/c) knee-length dress with off-shoulder straps. The bodice was form-fitting and flattering while the skirt was loose and allowed for movement. You added a pair of black sandal wedges and pulled your (h/c) locks into a loose side braid.  
You went back downstairs with your purse in hand and finished preparing the bakery for closing. You heard the bell above the door jingle as a familiar face walked in. Clint smiled at you as you produced trays full of the sweets Tony had ordered. You slipped on your favorite jacket and helped Clint carry the trays out to his car.  
Once the treats were loaded, Clint opened the passenger door and held it out for you. He closed it once you were inside and ran around to open his own door. You arrived at Stark Tower within minutes.  
He opened your door and offered a hand to help you out, which you took just to be close to him. You helped him unload the trays and followed him inside. He led you to the elevator and asked JARVIS to take you two to the party floor. You were surprised when the ceiling responded back to Clint with a “Of course, sir.”  
Deciding to ask about the talking walls later, you followed the archer off the elevator and into the kitchen attached to the main party area. You set the trays of food on the counter as Clint told the hired bartender to set things up. He also ordered drinks for the two of you before leading you away from the bar.  
“Would you like a tour?” he inquired.  
“Sure,” you replied. He led you through the party floor and explained the general purpose for each floor – Tony’s many work labs, the Avengers’ guest bedrooms on certain floors, and Tony’s own personal floor.  
“Hey, Tony,” he called as said billionaire caught the two of you walking around.  
“Who’s this pretty thing?” Tony grinned, looking you up and down.  
“My date,” Clint replied with an eye roll. “Tony, this is (y/n). We were classmates in high school. (y/n), meet Tony Stark.”  
You offered your hand for Tony to shake, only for him to bring it to his lips and gently kiss your knuckles.  
“Nice to meet you,” you said politely.  
“My pleasure,” he smirked, releasing your hand.  
Clint rolled his eyes again and continued walking, introducing you to every Avenger, agent, and friend that you passed. You’d even met Pepper, who was supervising Tony to make sure he didn’t drink too much.  
“And I thought the Tower looked cool from the outside,” you breathed after Clint had taken you to top floor where the balcony was. “It’s amazing.”  
“Money does that,” he shrugged.  
“Sorry,” you mumbled. “You’re probably used to this place.”  
“I’ve always admired how excited you get about things,” he smiled, moving to stand behind you as you leaned against the balcony railing.  
“Really?” you questioned, turning your head to look up at him.  
“I thought it was so cute how much heart you put into everything,” he admitted softly. “You had so much love for everything you did, and you never let anything bring you down.”  
A blush claimed your cheeks as you looked back to the outside world. A breeze blew by, causing you to shiver. You’d left your jacket on the party floor.  
Clint noticed and shrugged his own jacket off, draping it across your shoulders. You smiled up at him, clutching the edges of the jacket to keep it from falling to the floor. You turned around, still trapped between him and the balcony. His hands were on either side of you, grasping the railing behind you.  
You looked up at him, and the world seemed to fade away. Your crush seemed to be returning – or had it always been there? You supposed it could have just stayed there, all these years, waiting to be remembered.  
He looked back at you, leaning forward enough to rest his forehead on yours. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed.  
“I’ve missed you too,” you replied softly. He leaned in more and you closed your eyes, breath hitching in your throat as his lips met yours. His hand moved from the railing to wrap around your lower back, pulling you closer. Your hands rested on his chest, a soft sigh escaping through your nose. One of his hands slid up your side, over your shoulder, up the side of your face and tangled itself in your hair. You took in a breath as his lips parted from yours before they claimed yours a second time. His tongue grazed your lower lip, causing you to gasp and pull away slightly.  
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted.  
“Why didn’t you?” you questioned.  
“I didn’t think you’d want me to.”  
“I’ve always wanted you to.”  
“Well I know that now,” he grinned, kissing you again. You moved your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. He pulled away enough to brush his nose against yours, still smirking.  
“I’m never letting you go again,” he stated.  
“I hope not,” you smiled, kissing his nose.  
You completely forgot about the party, too wrapped up in each other’s loving arms.


	6. Dude Looks Like a Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers are suddenly all female

**Dude Looks Like a Lady**  
Request for Agent Mujaji

 

Clint shuffled off the elevator and into the Tower once reaching the floor that contained his room. He had just returned from a month-long mission in another country, and he was exhausted. All he wanted to do was drop his bags on the floor of his room and collapse into bed.  
He was on his way to do exactly that when a shiny (f/c) object lying on the floor caught his eye. Despite his exhaustion, something inside him told him that the object was yours, leading him to stray from the path to his bedroom to pick it up. Holding it close to his face, he discovered that it was indeed yours. It was your favorite necklace – an amulet you’d inherited from your mother. You’d always refused to give any kind of back story to the jewel, other than that it was your mother’s most prized possession. No one knew who your parents were, since you never talked much about them. You didn’t remember much about them, yourself.  
He fidgeted with the necklace, wondering how you could have dropped it without noticing. You kept it on your person at all times, often clutching or rubbing it out of habit. He considered returning it to you with a sigh – it was three a.m., so you’d most likely be asleep, and your room was on an entirely different floor.  
He finally made it to his own room and threw his stuff inside, exhaustion building as he sat down on the edge of his bed and lost all will to get back up again. He set the amulet on the bedside table as he laid his head on his pillow, falling asleep instantly.

Clint awoke the next morning feeling… lighter than before. As though he suddenly weighed less, and his weight distributed itself differently. He yawned, stretching his arms out to his sides. He clenched his fists in the stretch before pausing – had his nails always been that long? And why did his fingers feel thinner than before?  
He sat up and looked around, groaning as he realized that he’d have to crawl out of bed to peek at his reflection. His only mirror was in the bathroom attached to his room. He looked down at his lap, eyes widening as he looked at his legs which were mostly uncovered by the blanket. He still wore his mission outfit from the night before, having been too tired to change clothes. But his pants were definitely better fitting the night before. He reached down, pulling on the baggy fabric of his pant leg. He shrieked in surprise as he discovered that his fingers were indeed thinner than he recalled. And he had some lovely long fingernails growing from his fingertips.  
He held his arm out in front of him, noting the thin yet muscly build from his wrist to his shoulder. That led his gaze to his chest and his equally baggy t-shirt. Hesitating, he moved his rather feminine hands to the sides of his shirt, pulling back until the cloth was tight against his chest. He nearly screamed at the newest development – his upper chest had grown significantly, and two balloon shapes were now attached beneath his shirt. He stood abruptly, rushing into his bathroom and shedding his clothes. He looked down at his bare form, noting his curves and dips, his long, thin legs and delicate feet. Well, couldn’t really call them his, now, could he? He? She? He’d have to work on that.

He wandered back into his room to find clothes for the day, and thought that perhaps he should interrogate Loki and see if he had anything to do with Clint’s current predicament.  
While rummaging around for clothes, he noted your necklace still sitting on his bedside table. After changing, he quickly grabbed the necklace and stuffed it into his pocket before leaving his room.  
A soft knock on your door woke you from your dreamless sleep, and you took a moment to yawn and stretch before calling out, “Who is it?”  
“Clint,” a feminine voice replied. Confused, you crawled out of bed and towards the door, opening it just enough to see the person on the other side. She certainly reminded you of Clint, wearing the same clothes and having slightly longer hair of the same color.  
“I’m sorry, who?” you questioned.  
The girl sighed. “It’s me, Clint. I don’t know what happened but I woke up… like this.”  
You studied her for a moment before deciding that, someway, somehow, she was Clint Barton. Or was it Clair, now?  
With a giggle, you stepped aside and opened the door fully, letting Clint in. “Why are you coming to me?”  
“I thought it might have been Loki’s doing,” Clint replied, sitting on the end of your bed. “I was going to interrogate him, but I figured I should bring you with me. He responds better when you’re there.”  
Unsure of how to take that news, you shrugged. “Sure, just let me get dressed.”  
You rummaged through your dresser, producing a (f/c) tank top and black yoga pants. You slipped into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door, changing quickly and running a brush through your (h/l) (h/c) hair. You emerged a few moments later and slipped on your boots before opening the door. “Let’s go.”

The two of you headed to the floor that Loki stayed on and headed to his room, knocking on the door. A grunt came from the other side, which you took as Loki’s way of telling you to come in.  
You opened the door slowly. “Loki?”  
A tall, thin woman with long black hair and vibrant green eyes sat on Loki’s bed, reading a book that you didn’t recognize. He didn’t seem the least bit phased by his apparent gender swap.  
“You too?” Clint questioned.  
Loki looked up and snorted. “So Barton has been affected as well. I wonder if anyone else got caught in the spell.”  
“Spell!” the archer cried. “So it was you!”  
Loki shook his – her? – head. “I’m afraid not, though I’m flattered by the assumption. If it were to have been my spell, I would not be so incompetent as to cast it upon myself as well. Truth be told, I know not how we came to be in this predicament.”  
“Maybe we should check on the others,” you suggested, “see if anyone else has been affected.”  
Clint nodded, following you away from Loki’s room and to the closest Avenger. Thor.  
“Thor?” you called, knocking on the door.  
“Lady (y/n)?” a deep but still feminine voice replied.  
“May we come in?” you requested.  
“Of course.”  
You opened the door, peering in. Thor had been transformed as well. He had more muscles than Loki had, even as a woman. He was thin but fit, with toned arms and legs and a flat stomach.  
“Brother Barton!” Thor exclaimed. “You are now a maiden as well?”  
Clint cringed. “Yeah, Thor. Loki, too. Do you know what happened?”  
Thor shook his/her head. “I do not. Perhaps Brother Stark has some knowledge?”  
“I suppose he or Bruce would be the ones to ask if it wasn’t Loki,” you reasoned. Clint nodded.  
“Would you like to join us, Thor?” you offered.  
Thor thought for a moment before nodding. “I’d love to.” He stood up, dressed in a tight tank top and loose pajama pants, and left the room to follow you two to Tony’s lab.  
“Go away,” Tony’s voice called once you’d knocked on the door. You stifled a giggle – guess Tony wasn’t as accepting of this mishap as the Asgardians had been.  
“Come on, Tony,” Clint sighed. There was a pause on the other side of the door, presumably Tony noting the feminine tone to the archer’s voice and considering opening the door.  
Which he did.  
The door opened to reveal a tall and thin billionaire, with a tiny waist and D-size breasts. Of course Tony would look like a Barbie doll.  
“It happened to you too?” he questioned softly, opening the door more to show his attire – a slightly baggy AC/DC T-shirt, which would completely cover a woman’s breasts were they smaller than Tony’s, and flannel pajama pants, which had been tied as tight as the strings would allow.  
Clint and Thor nodded behind you. You shrugged. “We have no idea what happened. We were hoping you did.”  
Tony glared. “I bet it was Loki. He probably cast some spell on all of us to turn us into chicks and-”  
You cut him off. “We checked him first. He’s a chick, too.”  
The billionaire stopped. “What about Banner?”  
“Haven’t seen him yet,” you replied, “but if you got hit, then I assume he did too.”  
“He’s at his place right now,” Tony recalled. “Let’s call him.”  
You nodded and held your hand out expectantly. The billionaire passed over his phone, allowing you to dial the doctor’s number. You held the phone to your ear as you awaited an answer.  
A masculine voice answered, “Hello?”  
You wondered if only the Tower residents were affected. “Bruce?”  
“(y/n)?”  
“Yep,” you replied. “Are you alright?”  
“Why do you ask?”  
“Something happened to everyone in the Tower,” you explained. “We were wondering if it hit you too.”  
“What happened?” he inquired. “Are you sick?”  
“Uhm, no… Everyone here has somehow been turned into a woman.”  
“Is it Loki?”  
You sighed. “No, it wasn’t Loki. Everyone needs to stop automatically blaming Loki.”  
“Sorry,” he replied sheepishly. “What happened, then?”  
“No idea.”  
“Get me as much information as you can. I’ll be there in an hour.”  
You hung up and passed the phone back to Tony before turning to Clint. “Did anything specific happen before you turned into a girl?”  
“Don’t think so,” the archer replied. “I just woke up this way. Oh!” He seemed to remember something and shoved his hand into his pants pocket, producing your amulet. “I found this on the floor when I came in last night.”  
You took it from his hands, wondering how it could have ended up on Clint’s floor when your own room was three floors above his. “I wonder what happened to it…”  
“Is it magical?” Tony inquired.  
You shook your head. “I don’t think so.”  
“Should we check?” Clint wondered. “I’m sure Loki or Banner could tell us if it has magical properties.”  
“Could it have caused all of this?” you wondered.  
“Many such magical items exist,” Thor nodded. “Did your mother ever say anything about it?”  
“Not that I remember,” you replied.  
“We shall ask my brother,” Thor stated. “Er, sister…”  
You giggled as you, Clint, Thor, and Tony made your way back to Loki’s room.

“Loki!” you called, banging on the door. The tall and thin woman opened said door, raising a brow.  
“Yes?”  
You held out your mother’s amulet. “Can you tell us if this is magical?”  
Loki took the necklace and examined it. “It’s powerful,” he nodded. “Why do you ask?”  
You gestured to the three men-turned-women standing behind you. “Could it have caused this?”  
Loki tapped his chin in thought. “It’s possible.” He looked back at the amulet. “It’s definitely got some kind of power in it.”

Bruce eventually joined the party, and he, Loki, and Tony tested the amulet as much as they could. Without any better explanation, they all agreed that the sudden gender swap was caused by your necklace. Having come to that conclusion, you all wondered how they were supposed to revert back to being men.  
No one had any ideas. Loki tried spells, but his powers were limited as he was on a sort of probation period, so nothing happened. You had no idea how your amulet caused the gender swap in the first place, so you certainly didn’t know how to fix it.  
After much grumbling (though Thor and Loki weren’t horribly bothered, and you and Bruce were rather amused) from the guys, they agreed that they’d have to just wait it out.

Natasha was away on a mission and Pepper had loads of paperwork to do to keep the rest of New York from having Tony’s head, so that left you as the only female for the Avengers to look to for guidance. Only Thor and Loki seemed to accept their new bodies – you wondered if they’d been turned into women before. You’d read bits and pieces of mythology involving those two, and you vaguely recalled a story of Lady Loki.  
Poor Steve hadn’t been informed of the situation when the rest of you were trying to solve it, so he awoke that morning in a total panic and couldn’t find any of you to help him. He refused to talk to anyone but you, and he walked around in the most concealing clothes he owned while a blush permanently stained his cheeks.  
You made your way into the kitchen the next morning, your mind set on coffee and breakfast. Thor, Loki, and Clint were lounging in the living room adjacent to the kitchen. Thor was munching on Poptarts while Loki read an unknown book and Clint grumbled about having breasts. You laughed to yourself as you doctored up a cup of coffee and moved into the living room to join the guys.  
Tony and Steve soon joined you. Tony was proudly wearing a too-tight tank top and yoga pants, which you assumed were Pepper’s but were too disturbed to inquire about, while Steve wore a baggy T-shirt and pajama pants.  
“How can you be enjoying this so much?” Steve inquired beneath a blush, looking at Tony.  
The billionaire shrugged. “I have boobs now.”  
You nearly snorted your coffee at his response, which also earned a smirk from Clint.  
“Lady (y/n),” Thor began, “if we are to remain in these forms for an indeterminate amount of time, I do imagine we’ll require more appropriate dressing options.”  
“Do you want me to take you bra shopping, Thor?” you asked with a grin. Steve blushed more, Tony seemed thoughtful, and Clint grimaced.  
“That sounds most helpful,” Thor beamed. You laughed outright before standing.  
“My car will hold everyone. Let me grab my keys and we’ll head to the store,” you told the group. You began walking to the elevator to get ready when you called out, “Meet me in the lobby, guys!”

You insisted on driving your Ford Expedition to take the guys shopping. You’d also gotten Tony agree to lend you a gold card to pay for the goodies.  
You led the boys inside, giggling as Clint and Steve tried to hide their conditions. Bruce had opted for going with you, just to enjoy watching the others suffer.  
“Alright,” you began, leading the boys to the “Intimates” section, “we need to figure out what sized you guys are.”  
“Large,” Thor responded, looking down at his chest. You stole a quick glance and nodded.  
“You’re definitely a D,” you agreed. “Find a style you like and then look for a D.”  
You sorted the other boys into letter sized and sent them off. You laughed as they each had their particular styles. Tony seemed to pick bras similar to those that his previous girlfriends left behind, such as pink and black lace. Thor opted for cutesy prints, such as flowers and polka-dots. Loki went for simple, solid colors (black and green, of course). Clint raised a brow as he looked through the bras, though whether he was checking them out for his own use or for his future girlfriend, you couldn’t be sure. (1) Poor Steve was crossing his arms over his chest, blushing madly.  
You wondered if you’d have to help the poor soldier pick out a bra.

An hour and a half later and you’d supplied each of the gender-bended Avengers with bras, panties, and other women’s clothing. Steve insisted that he was fine wearing his own clothes, though they’d be much baggier on him now. Tony and Thor, expectedly, had no opposition to going through the women’s section.  
Back at the Tower, each of the guys was getting dressed, or attempting to, while you and Bruce prepared dinner. As you were boiling water in the teapot, a very topless Tony entered the kitchen. You and Bruce both shielded your eyes as he proudly stood in the entrance of the kitchen.  
“What do you need Tony?” Bruce inquired, stirring something on the stove.  
“And where’s your shirt?” you added.  
“We’re all having a bit of trouble getting the bras on,” Tony admitted. “Turns out we’re much better at taking them off.”  
You shook your head to destroy that mental image as you walked over to the topless billionaire. “Hand me the bra. I’ll show you.”  
He handed you his black lace number, causing you to shake your head. You held it up in front of you as though putting it on. “The straps go over your shoulders,” you explained, “and the skillful part is clasping it behind your back. Some women put the bra on backwards, clasp it in the front, and then slide it around.”  
Tony took the bra back and set the straps over his shoulders as you instructed, reaching behind his back to attempt to close the clasps.  
“It’s a learned skill,” you noted, snickering at his lack of success. Tony returned to his room, presumably to share your insight with the others.  
“How long do you think it’ll last?” Bruce inquired with a smirk.  
“I have no idea,” you mused. “It’s entertaining to watch, though.”

The lot of you opted for a movie night, hoping to take your minds off of the boys’ predicament. You picked Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire from the movie collection, setting it in the DVD tray before grabbing the necessary remotes.  
You sat on the couch, sandwiched between Tony and Clint. Thor and Loki claimed the other couch, while Bruce and Steve each took over the recliners. You wiggled happily as the movie began excited to watch your childhood favorite again. You leaned on Clint as the movie progressed, your unknown exhaustion making an appearance. You eventually fell unconscious, leaning against an equally unconscious Clint.  
You awoke sometime later, after the DVD player had shut itself off and the TV was casting a soft blue glow about the room. Everyone else had fallen asleep in their respective seats as well. You looked up at the man beside you to discover that he was indeed a man again. You stifled a giggle at the realization that he was still in his lady clothes, the bra beneath his tank top offering awkward shapes against his chest.  
He soon awoke, blinking repeatedly as he looked around the room. He found you awake before looking down at himself, sighing in relief.  
“I’m a dude again,” he smirked, causing you to let out a soft giggle.  
“I guess it didn’t last very long,” you noted.  
“Thanks for your help,” he whispered, wrapping his arm around you. You ignored the blush rising to your cheeks.  
“You’re welcome.”  
He took a breath and hesitated before speaking again. “I suppose now’s a good a time as any.”  
You tilted your head in confusion, waiting for him to continue.  
“I’m in love with you, (y/n),” he whispered, his icy blue eyes boring into your own (e/c) orbs. “I have been for a long time.”  
“Why didn’t you say?” you inquired.  
“Didn’t think it would make a difference.”  
You tilted your head up and pressed your lips to his. “It does.”  
He grinned against your lips. “How about we get out of here?”  
You nodded and stood, grabbing his hand and dragging him behind you. He peeled off the tank top and unclasped the bra as you led him to your room, leaving the articles of clothing on the floor behind him.  
You opened the door and moved to sit on your bed, gesturing for him to join you once he closed the door. He did so quickly, lying beside you with his arm beneath your head as a pillow. You rested one hand on his cheek, pulling him in for another kiss. He responded immediately, his free hand resting on your waist. He nipped your lower lip, causing you to gasp and him to deepen the kiss.  
You pulled away for a breath, smiling up at him. “Are we a couple now?”  
He grinned, pecking your lips again. “Definitely.”

 

(1) I wrote that sentence completely forgetting that this was a Clint story xD


	7. I Love You, Birdboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawkeye gets turned into his namesake

**I Love You, Birdboy**  
Request for Thalia

You were seated on your bed, flipping through your favorite book, with a screeching came outside your door. You almost dropped the book in surprise – nothing in the Tower made a noise like that. Well, Tony’s suits often made terrible noises, but that was different. You’d never heard this particular screech.  
Setting the book aside and grabbing the gun from your nightstand, you made your way to your door and slowly opened it, pointing the gun out in front of you as you peeked outside. Looking around at eye-level, you found nothing. Your brows furrowed in confusion; the sound had come from right outside your room.  
The screech came again, much louder now that you were much closer. You jumped slightly as a large bird flew into view. It must have been sitting on the floor. It flew back a foot or so to let you look it over. You snickered upon realizing that it was a hawk.  
“Hey there, buddy,” you cooed, holding your firearm-less hand out in a friendly manner. The hawk flew to your arm and perched itself on your wrist, talons gently holding onto your skin. “Where did you come from?”  
It screeched in response, quieter this time. “Well, that’s not helpful,” you grumbled. You considered taking the bird to Clint, just to see his reaction. Instead, you opted for wandering around the Tower with the hawk on your arm and see if anyone knew where it came from.

You sauntered into the kitchen to find Tony and Steve. Tony snickered just as you had when he saw your friend, while Steve raised a brow.  
“Nice pet,” Tony smirked.  
“Thanks,” you replied sarcastically. “Do either of you know where he came from?”  
“Haven’t heard about any hawks breaking into the Tower,” Steve replied apologetically.  
“I’ll ask Bruce,” you decided, turning on your heel and leaving.  
Tony continued to snicker as you left.

You found the doctor in his lab, no doubt working on a cure for the Other Guy. “Hey, Bruce,” you greeted.  
“Hi, (y/n),” he smiled. “What’s with the hawk?”  
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” you replied. “He just showed up outside my room.”  
“Oh?” You could have sworn his lips twisted into a smile that he was trying to hide. “Maybe Thor knows.”  
“I’ll ask,” you sighed softly.

Thor was in his room with Jane, snacking on PopTarts and watching a movie. You knocked on the door with your free hand.  
“Hey, (y/n),” Jane greeted with a smile, opening the door to let you in.  
“Hello, Lady (y/n),” Thor smiled.  
“Hey guys,” you replied. “I don’t suppose either of you know where this guy came from…?” You held up your arm, gesturing to the hawk.  
Jane’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I have no idea,” she shrugged.  
Thor continued to smile. “I believe you have found a friend.”  
“Yes, I found him,” you nodded. “I’m trying to figure out where he belongs.”  
“I’d say he belongs with you, Lady (y/n),” Thor replied simply. You tilted your head in confusion. Why would a random hawk belong to you?  
You let out another sigh. “Do you think your brother knows?”  
“I am most certain that he does.”  
You turned to leave, thinking that everyone in the Tower was up to something – and Loki was in the middle of it.

You knocked on the door that led to Loki’s room.  
“Enter,” he called from the other side. You turned the handle to find the trickster sitting on his bed, reading a book, much like you had been. He looked up and instantly smirked upon finding your new friend.  
“Did you have something to do with a random hawk flying to my room?” you asked.  
The smirk remained. “I might have. Why? Do you not like your new friend?”  
“I would just like to know where he came from,” you replied. You were tired of the runaround you were receiving from your friends.  
“Did you know that animals cannot hide their emotions?” Loki pointed. “If a person were to be turned into an animal, they would not be able to hide their true colors, even if that person would like them to be hidden.”  
“What does that have to do with anything?” you cried.  
“You really are dense, aren’t you?” he deadpanned. “Go back to your room with your friend. You will discover the meaning of my words by tomorrow.”  
With an irritated groan, you left, heading back to your room to continue your book.  
You mused that Zoey Redbird and Stevie Rae Johnson would make much better company than billionaires and demigods. (1)

You continued your book and were very engrossed in the climax when a light flashed beside you, catching your attention. You gasped as the light enveloped the hawk and nearly blinded you. You squinted, holding your hand above your brows to shield your eyes as the light faded away. Sitting on your bed where the hawk had sat was none other than Clint Barton.  
A very naked Clint Barton.  
You yelped in surprise and threw your blanket at him so he could cover himself. “Clint? You were the hawk?”  
“Heh, yeah,” he grinned. “Sorry about that. Not my idea.”  
“Whose idea, then?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.  
“Everyone else’s,” he admitted. You let out a groan. That’s what they were hiding from you!  
“Why did they turn you into a hawk?” you demanded. “And why did you come to me?”  
“I’m not entirely sure,” he said, wrapping the blanket around himself. “Everyone went to Loki with the idea, and he all-too-happily agreed. I’m not sure why I went to you. Just seemed like the thing to do.”  
You thought back to what Loki had said about animals not hiding their emotions, and that humans-turned-animals would have to show their true colors. “I think I know why…”  
He turned to you with a raised brow, urging you to continue.  
“Loki said that animals can’t hide their emotions, so if a person was turned into an animal, they’d have to act on how they truly feel, even if the person would prefer to hide,” you repeated.  
“And?” he insisted before it sunk in. “Oh.”  
“I guess that shows how good of friends we are, huh,” you joked, wishing that there was more than that. “You came to me for help.”  
He inwardly flinched at the word friends. “Right.”  
“Unless…”  
“Unless?”  
“Unless… there was more?”  
“More than what?”  
“More than friends?”  
He stared at you, and you stared back. He leaned in closer, closing his eyes. You hesitantly followed suit. His lips captured yours, and he let himself go. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you into his lap. His lips pressed harder against yours, swallowing your contented sigh and nibbling at your lower lip. You gasped in surprise, reaching up to tangle your hands in his hair. His tongue grazed your lower lip before he pulled back. “I’ve always wanted to be more than friends with you, (y/n).”  
“What a coincidence,” you smirked. “So have I.”  
He kissed you again with a grin and renewed confidence, moving so that you were lying on the bed with him hovering above you. One arm rested beside your head, holding his weight as his other hand travelled down your side. You kept one hand tangled in his hair while your other ran down his chest.  
“I love you, (nick/n),” he smiled against your lips.  
“I love you too, Birdboy,” you grinned.  
“Goddammit, Tony.”

 

(1) My favorite book series. I’ll love you forever if you recognize it and/or are a fan. THIS IS NOT A PERCY JACKSON REFERENCE. THE BILLIONAIRES AND DEMIGODS REFER TO THE AVENGERS. THE REFERENCE WAS ABOUT ZOEY REDBIRD, NOT THE DEMIGODS.


	8. Lime Green Jell-O

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You think Clint and Nat are together. The A/N says you have a name but I didn't see it used so I think it's good.

**Lime Green Jell-O**  
Request for XXanimeseekerXX  
A/N: Reader has a name.  
“You’re lime green Jell-O and you can’t even admit it to yourself.”

 

Steve had always been there for you, cuddling you through your sad times and watching you dance around the Tower like a lunatic during your happy moods. He’d been your best friend since Day One, when you’d first been accepted as an Avenger. You could kick arse with the best of them, but you were a nice person at heart and Steve understood that. Most people saw you as a weapon.  
You liked to think that you were friends with the whole team, though some friendships were stronger than others. Natasha intimidated you, being the only other girl and having way more experience than you, both with being an assassin and being friends with the guys. You often felt that you paled in comparison to the Russian redhead, causing you to distance yourself from her.  
Bruce, Tony, and Thor had been good enough friends to you. You could hold a conversation with any of them without an awkward silence rearing its ugly head. You didn’t have a whole lot in common; you weren’t a science wiz like Bruce, nor a technology geek like Tony, and you knew very little about Norse mythology, limiting your conversations with Thor.  
You didn’t have much in common with Steve either, but he never seemed to mind. He’d listen to you ramble on about whatever show you had started watching, and even let you introduce him to some of them. He’d comfort you when you vented about your horrible ex and he’d help you cook breakfast for the team. The others teased that he had a crush on you, since he was virtually the only one that spent time with you, and you wondered if they were right. He’d shrug it off and say that they were jealous of your friendship.  
There was one person in particular that you wished would look at you that way. But he had a Russian redhead on his arm – what would he need you for?  
Yes, you had a crush on the one and only Hawkeye. But he spent all of his time with Natasha. At first you thought that their constant time together was due to Fury always sending them together on missions, but they were always with one another in the Tower as well. You then mused that it had to do with their history, having done so many missions together for so long, but then you realized that that was another thing you didn’t have in common, with anyone.  
You were glad you had Steve. You worried that you wouldn’t have any true friends in the Tower if you and the super soldier hadn’t hit it off so well.

“I really don’t think Clint and Natasha are in a relationship,” Steve insisted one night while you were teaching him how to play Sorry.  
“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” you sighed, drawing a card.  
“No, really,” he replied, drawing a card and moving his own pawn. “They’re just close because of what they’ve been through together. There are no romantic feelings.”  
“No romantic feelings where?” Tony inquired, sauntering into the game room.  
“Nowhere,” you replied quickly, eyes cast down at your lap.  
Tony raised a brow. “You got a crush on someone, Trinity?”  
“Nope,” you replied, popping the ‘p’. It was a habit you were known to do when lying, but you assumed, and slightly hoped, that Tony didn’t know you well enough to have caught onto it.  
He eyed you suspiciously. “If you say so.”  
Steve looked between the two of you, pretending to not be invested in the conversation. “It’s your turn.”  
You nodded and drew a card as Tony left. “That was close.”  
He nodded. “I mean it, though. I don’t think they’re involved.”  
You sat back in your chair and nibbled the inside of your lip – a thinking habit – as you wondered if Steve could be right.

Later that night, after you and Steve had finished your game, Tony had called for a movie night. The lot of you gathered in the entertainment room and you listened to the rest of them argue about who should choose the movie. Tony declared that you should choose, being the newest Avenger. You shyly skimmed the movie selection, opting for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. You felt a small boost of confidence as no one opposed your selection.  
You took your seat beside Steve on the couch, snuggling into his side as his arm wrapped around you. Clint watched you from the other couch, glaring daggers into Steve’s head. Natasha watched his reaction and rested a hand on his leg, trying to calm him. You glanced over and saw the redhead’s hand and the archer’s slowly calming mood, you let out a sigh. Of course they were together – why wouldn’t they be?  
You tried desperately to focus on the movie, feeling Steve’s fingers run through your hair. Your head rested on his shoulder as he pressed a kiss to your head. You didn’t see the angry blue eyes glued to your cuddle buddy as you tried to watch Harry Potter fight a dragon. Steve occasionally glanced at the assassins, smiling softly at Clint’s obvious jealousy. Clint’s brows furrowed in confusion at the soldier’s smile – did he think it was funny?

By the movie’s end, most of the team had fallen asleep or gone to their rooms. You were still wide awake, thoughts running rampant as you wondered why Clint had stared at you and Steve and how stupid you were for falling for the archer.  
You stood from your seat, careful not to disturb Steve, who’d fallen asleep with his head on yours and his arm around you. He stirred slightly before turning his body the other direction and slumbering peacefully. You breathed a sigh of relief as you weaved around the sleeping Avengers to make your way to the hall.  
“Wait,” a voice whispered behind you. You spun on your heel, part of you worried that it was someone trying to hurt you and part of you knowing that it had to be one of the guys.  
Sure enough, it was Clint. You shifted awkwardly, unsure as to why the archer was trying to catch your attention. “What? Do you need something?”  
“I wanted to talk to you,” he stated.  
“About?”  
“Us.”  
“Us?” You weren’t aware that he and you had an ‘us.’  
“Can we go somewhere private?”  
“Yeah, I guess… My room?”  
He nodded and followed you to the elevator. Neither of you saw Steve and Natasha waking just enough to see you leave together. They smiled at each other before falling back to sleep.  
You led Clint to your room and held your arm out in a “make yourself at home” gesture. He nodded and took a seat at the foot of your bed. You sat beside him, leaning against your pillows.  
“So, what about ‘us’?” you inquired softly, looking at your lap.  
“I want there to be an ‘us’,” he replied, trying to meet your eyes.  
You looked up at him. “What about Natasha?”  
“What about her?”  
“Aren’t you with her?”  
“Not in the way I want to be with you.”  
You stared at him, trying to find any hints of insincerity. Finding none, another question bubbled to mind. “Why me?”  
“You’re beautiful, skilled, sweet. Why not you? I’ve wanted to be with you for a long time but I figured you were with Steve so I backed off,” he replied.  
“I wasn’t with Steve in that way,” you replied. “He was my first friend when I joined the team and he hangs out with me more than the others.”  
“Everyone thinks you have a thing with Steve,” Clint explained. “They all think you don’t want to hang out with them.”  
You looked down at your lap. “I figured they just didn’t like me.”  
He scooted closer to you. “I like you.”  
A warm hand grasped your chin, tilting your head up to face him. He pressed his lips to yours, his other hand finding your waist. Your arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer.  
“Do you want to be with me in that way?” he whispered against your lips.  
“Absolutely,” you replied, kissing him again.


	9. More Than One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You give birth to Clint's children

**More Than One**  
Request for Nova’s Girl  
A/N: (f/b/n) means “favorite boy name,” (f/g/n) means “favorite girl name.”

 

You waddled into the kitchen of Avengers Tower, having awoken to a disappointingly empty bed. You knew that Clint preferred to get up and start his day whereas you enjoyed lazing about in your room, but a soft sigh still escaped your lips whenever you awoke without him. So you made your way to the most likely room that he migrated to – he was always hungry first thing in the morning.  
Sure enough, you found him at the stove, nursing a cup of coffee. Before him sat two frying pans, both emanating sizzling steam and delicious smells. You smiled at the sight, leaning against the doorframe to help hold yourself up. You were only a few weeks away from your due date, so you had a lot of belly weight throwing off your balance. You were often found leaning against the wall or the counter for support.  
“Morning, beautiful,” Clint smiled upon realizing your presence. You waddled further into the kitchen, leaning against the counter beside him. He leaned down slightly to press a chaste kiss to your lips before returning to the eggs he was scrambling.  
“That smells amazing,” you noted, closing your eyes.  
“Bacon’s on the table,” he stated, smirking as you bee-lined for the paper towel-lined plate. Shoving a piece into your mouth, you nearly moaned. Bacon and eggs had been your favorite food ever since you got pregnant. Clint was grateful that it was normal food and not some weird combination like chocolate-dipped pickles or something, and that it was easy to cook.  
“Thank you babe,” you said around a mouthful of bacon. He chuckled as he plated up eggs and set them in front of you on the table. He then sat beside you, running a hand up and down your back.  
“How are you feeling?”  
“Like I’m about to burst,” you replied, shoveling eggs into your mouth. “I hope (f/b/n) or (f/g/n) comes out soon. I can’t waddle around much longer.”  
You had long since passed the mark in your pregnancy that allowed you to find the gender of your baby, but you and Clint had decided that you wanted to be surprised.  
As you finished your food, a stab of pain radiated across your belly. You clutched your baby bump with a groan before feeling a trickle of wetness sliding down your thigh. You looked down as the wetness continued, looking at Clint in alarm. “Babe, I think my water broke.”

After a very manly scream front Clint that led to him frantically grabbing the baby preparation bag and calling Bruce to ride to the hospital with you. The doctor didn’t have much experience in baby deliveries, but his medical history allowed him to help keep you calm and breathing on the way.  
Bruce jumped out of the car to fetch you a wheelchair, helping you stumble out of the car and sit down. He wheeled you in while Clint parked the car. As the doctor checked you in, which went much faster since the hospital knew him, Clint met you in the waiting room, holding your hand and making sure you were okay.  
You were nervous for multiple reasons. There was the obvious – you were about to give birth. But while you had agreed that you both wanted to be surprised by the gender of the baby, the doctor had given you another piece of information that you decided to surprise Clint with. You just hoped he would handle it well.  
You’d told the girls before they’d thrown you a shower, so they bought appropriate gifts. They tried to buy neutral colors like white and red, along with clothes that didn’t have gender-specific patterns like flowers or cars. They aimed for multi-colored garments and mommy presents, like diapers and bottles. The shower had been fun, even if no one knew the gender. You still spent half an hour discussing names.  
A scream ripping through your lungs pulled you from your thoughts. You lied on your hospital bed, hands gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white. You hollered in pain as your insides felt like they were being ripped apart.  
“It’s okay, babe,” Clint cooed, his hands resting over yours, allowing you to squeeze the life out of his fingers. He pressed his lips to your head, trying to soothe you. You yelled again as the first baby pushed its way out of your body.  
“Almost there, (y/n),” Bruce stated as the nurse delivered your baby. “One more.”  
“One more?!” Clint repeated in surprise, his eyes darting between Bruce and you. “We’re having more than one?”  
“Twins,” you breathed, gritting your teeth as another scream bubbled in your throat.  
He laughed softly, overjoyed. He only hoped that they were one of each. He’d always wanted one of each. His hands continued to hold yours, even though he was losing feeling in his fingers, as the second baby came out.  
“Congratulations,” the nurse smiled, holding one baby while Bruce held the other. “Your babies are perfectly healthy, and there were no complications.”  
“Would you like to hold them?” Bruce inquired.  
You nodded, releasing Clint’s hand to hold out your arms. The baby Bruce had been holding, a girl, was placed in your arms. The nurse handed the baby she’d been holding, a boy, to Clint.  
“We got both,” he smiled, looking at you.  
“Yeah,” you replied tiredly. “We did.”  
“(f/g/n) and (f/b/n),” Clint breathed, kissing your son’s forehead.  
“They’re perfect,” you sighed softly, leaning back against the pillows. Clint scooted his chair closer to you, kissing your cheek as his head rested beside yours.  
“You can lie with her,” Bruce smiled, helping you scoot over so Clint could join you. He did so carefully, holding your son gently, until he was lying beside you. You rested your head on his shoulder, soon falling asleep with your daughter in your arms.


	10. Tears Don't Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a demon

**Tears Don’t Fall**  
Request for Agent Maja Barton aka Black Sapphire  
A/N: I originally titled it “Waking the Demon” until I wrote it and it ended up not so much being about you being a demon as you meeting Clint… So I changed it to the song that was rolling through my head as I wrote it.

 

You sighed as you slid the card into the door handle and watched the little light turn green. Turning the handle, you leaned your shoulder on the door to push it open, dropping your duffle bag on the floor. You shuffled into the room and threw yourself onto the bed, sighing as the tears threatened to fall. You lied on your back, looking up at the bland white ceiling. Unable to stop them, the tears spilled over your lower lids and streamed down the sides of your face, the angle of your head leading the tears to catch in your hair and drench your ears.  
You’d hurt someone again, and you couldn’t do anything about it. They were now in the hospital, possibly dying, and it was all your fault. Your best friend and boyfriend – well, ex-boyfriend, you mused – were covered in third degree burns because you’d caught them making out on your couch and had gotten emotional.  
Sure, they’d deserved karma and the repercussions of their sinful acts – they’d both cheated on you and betrayed your love and trust. But you never wanted to hurt them that badly. You never wanted to hospitalize them.  
It hadn’t even really been your fault. You were just so surprised and hurt that your emotions had gotten the better of you and flames spewed from your fingertips and palms, engulfing the entire room that your best friend and boyfriend were in. You watched the floor and walls ignite, the yellow-orange flames licking across every piece of furniture and knick-knack.  
You ran after that, booked it out as fast as your legs could carry you. You’d fled before the cops appeared, and you were lucky that your former friends hadn’t ratted you out. Though it was very likely that they were unconscious or at least unable to speak, what with their bodies being completely burned and all.  
The tears continued to fall as you thought back on today’s events. You rolled onto your side, curling into yourself and wrapping your arms around one of the white pillows. Your teary eyes buried into the plushy fabric, your body clinging to it as you shook with sobs. This was your life. You couldn’t have friends or loved ones. One bad emotion and someone always got hurt. You didn’t know why you had these fire powers or if they’d ever go away, and you sure as Hell couldn’t control them. The only benefit they’d had was that your body had a higher tolerance against other sources of heat, so burning your hand on a hot pan on the stove didn’t bother you like it did most people.  
A knock on the motel door shook you out of your thoughts. You waited for the familiar call of “Housekeeping!” to follow the knock but it never did. Confused, you sat up, wiping the tears from beneath your eyes. You made your way to the door and looked through the peephole, finding a man in a black and purple uniform and black sunglasses. Confused, you cracked the door open and looked up at him. “Who are you?”  
“Are you (y/n) (l/n)?” he asked.  
“Yeah,” you sniffled. “Who are you?”  
“Clint Barton,” he replied. “I need you to come with me.”  
“Why?”  
He looked around the hall before turning back to you. “Can I come in?”  
“I guess so…” You slowly opened the door, unsure of this man and his intentions. He stepped inside as you closed the door, crossing your room and taking a seat on the bed. You followed suit and sat beside him, hands sitting awkwardly in your lap.  
“So what do you want with me?”  
“I work for SHIELD,” he stated slowly. “They’ve received word that you have special abilities and they want to question you.”  
“I don’t know…” you whispered, looking at your lap. “I just want to be left alone. I’ve done enough damage.”  
Tears welled up in your eyes and you fought to keep them back. You weren’t going to break down in front of a complete stranger.  
He wanted to remain professional; he had to really, but something about the emotional turmoil whirling in your eyes had his arms reaching out to wrap you in a hug. Your surprise faded as your anxiety took over, causing you to curl into the archer’s embrace and let the tears flow as they had before. His strong arms held you surprisingly gently, one hand reaching up to stroke your hair.  
You pulled back enough to look up at him, pulling away out of embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, wiping your eyes with the inside of your wrist. “I’ve been emotional today.”  
“I think you should come with me,” he said gently, his hand reaching out to wrap around yours. “I know people that can help you control your abilities and learn to live with them.”  
You shook your head. “You’ll just get hurt. Your friends will get hurt. That’s all I can do…”  
His other hand found your face, gently cupping your cheek and lifting your face to meet his eyes. “We can help you,” he whispered. “Let me help you.”  
You looked up at you, fear and concern evident in your (e/c) eyes. You wanted to trust him, you really did, and you weren’t terribly worried that he or his friends would hurt you… But after what happened to your friend and ex, you couldn’t risk it. You weren’t safe around people. You were too dangerous.  
You shook your head as a new batch of tears welled in your eyes. “I can’t. You’ll get hurt. Everyone gets hurt. You said SHIELD knew what I could do; they have to know how dangerous I am.”  
“I don’t think you’re dangerous,” he admitted, brushing a strand of (h/c) hair out of your eyes. “We heard the reports of what happened to your friends, and SHIELD wants to check if you’re a threat, but that’s why I want to help. We can teach you how to control what you can do so you won’t hurt people.”  
“How?” you asked. “How can I ever learn to control it?”  
“You’ve heard of the Hulk right?” he asked. “Bruce Banner learned to control him. You can learn to control your powers.”  
You looked at him and the honesty in his eyes. He leaned forward, causing your eyes to widen. Impulses took over and you found yourself learning forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms wrapped around your waist as his lips found yours, molding together beautifully. He pulled you closer until you were in his lap, one leg on either side of his waist. You gasped softly as he nibbled your lower lip, pulling back enough to look at him.  
“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish smile.  
You shook your head. “Don’t be.”  
He smiled and kissed you again.


	11. Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Red Riding Hood

**Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?**  
Request for Thalia

 

You groaned as your mother stuffed more bread and fruit into the basket you were holding. You didn’t want to go traipsing through the woods to your grandmother’s secluded house in the middle of nowhere. It was a long journey, meaning you’d probably have to spend the night once you got there because you weren’t stupid enough to trek through the forest after dark.  
“Why is it so awful to do something nice for your grandmother?” your mother asked, draping a cloth over the basket and tucking it into the sides to protect the food.  
“Because she lives in the middle of nowhere!” you whined. “I’ll probably have to spend the night because it will be too late to come home tonight, and I have to constantly remind her who I am.”  
“Stop your whining,” she demanded, looking at you pointedly. “You will take this basket to your grandmother and do anything else she needs you to do. That’s what family is for.”  
You sighed. “Yes, mother.”

Basket in hand and leather boots tightened, you secured your red hooded cloak around your neck and left your house, headed straight for the forest. You’d been going to your grandmother’s cottage every year since you were a child. You’d started going with your mother to take baked goods and homegrown fruits to the elderly lady, and once you were old enough your mother decided to send you alone. You’d quickly learned the path by heart, not even needing to mark trees to help you find your way. When you were younger, you were afraid of the woods, even chaperoned. Your mother carried a dagger to mark x’s on the trees you passed so you could find and remember the path.  
You smiled fondly at the memories as you continued your journey.  
A howl in the distance had you stopping in your tracks, looking around while trying to remain calm. You were taught to keep your wits about you when wandering alone, and you made sure that your expression was one of calm indifference rather than frightened anxiety. Finding no source of the howl as you spun in a circle, you shook your head and continued on.  
Only about ten minutes away from your destination, you were too focused on not tripping over fallen twigs on the ground to notice the person walking in front of you. You ran into his side and fell back on your rear, groaning slightly as the basket flew out of your hands. The towel tucked around it protected the goods as a large manly hand came into view. Your eyes travelled from the hand up the arm it was attached to and found the strikingly serious face of a man with short brown hair and piercing blue eyes. Placing your hand in his, your eyes locked as he lifted you up with one tug of his arm, bringing you to your feet. His other hand reached down to retrieve your basket, still intact, before handing it to you.  
“Thank you,” you said politely. “And I apologize. I wasn’t looking.”  
He seemed to consider your greeting before nodding. “No problem. But what are you doing out here alone?”  
“Visiting my grandmother,” you sighed. “Crazy old woman lives in a cottage in the middle of the forest and I visit her every year.”  
“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” he stated solemnly. “There’s a wolf running around out there. Might attack you if you’re not careful.”  
“I thought I heard a howl,” you breathed, more to yourself than to him. “I’m armed. I’ll be alright.”  
“Are you sure?” he inquired. “I can escort you the rest of the way if you’d like.”  
“What are you doing out here by yourself?” you inquired, looking up at him.  
“Hunting,” he replied.  
“Hunting the wolf?” you guessed.  
He nodded.  
“My village is the closest to the woods,” you stated. “Why haven’t we been warned officially?”  
“Authorities must not know you wander through here every year,” he shrugged as you began walking.  
“My uncle is head of the authorities,” you argued. “He knows very well that I visit my grandmother every year.”  
“Maybe he didn’t want to frighten you,” the hunter replied. “I don’t really know. I just know that I’ve been sent to hunt it.”  
You nodded, the next few moments passing in silence. “Do you have a name, hunter?”  
“Team calls me Hawkeye,” he replied.  
“Hawkeye?” you repeated, raising a brow. “What kind of name is that?”  
“It’s a nickname,” he smirked. “My skills lie in archery. I always hit my mark.”  
“Archery?” you asked, eyes widening. “That’s fascinating.”  
“Is it?” he smiled.  
You nodded. “My mother doesn’t want me to learn fighting,” you sighed. “She knows that I should know how to defend myself, that’s why she let my uncle give me his dagger, but ‘weapons are not fit for a lady’, she says.”  
He chuckled softly. “That’s true enough, but even a lady should know basic fighting.”  
“That’s what I keep trying to tell her,” you agreed.  
“I could teach you,” he offered.  
“Really?” you asked, eyes lighting up.  
He smiled and nodded. “I could give you some archery lessons, in case you run into that wolf.”  
“That’s very kind of you,” you smiled.

You were just a few feet away from your grandmother’s cottage when the howling came again. You turned on your heel and looked around as Hawkeye did the same. You turned your attention back to the cottage where the front door opened and your grandmother stepped out to see what the noise had been.  
“(y/n)!” she greeted cheerfully before a scream ripped from her lungs.  
“Grandma!” you cried, running towards her. The wolf had gotten to her first, sneaking through the bushes, blocked from your sight. It sunk its teeth into her lower leg, causing her knees to buckle and give out. She hit the floor hard as the wolf turned its attention to you and Hawkeye. The hunter drew his bow as you stared at the beast, frozen with fear. You’d never faced a predator head on before.  
The wolf had begun approaching you when an arrow pierced its head, killing it on the spot. It dropped dead to the ground, eyes closing and breath stopping. You ran to your grandmother’s side, eyes wide with worry upon inspecting the gash in her leg.  
“Move over,” Hawkeye instructed, kneeling down beside you. You crawled a foot away, watching as he untied the satchel from his waist. He flipped it open to reveal a bag full of medicines and bandages. He took out a flask and opened it, positioning it above your grandmother’s injured leg.  
“This is going to sting,” he warned. She nodded before he tipped the flask, sprinkling an unknown alcohol over her wound. She whimpered in pain as he put the flask away, pulling out a roll of gauze and some ointment. He medicated the gauze before gently wrapping her leg, tying it off as he finished. He then stood and helped her stand before extending a hand to you. You took it and stood, pulling your grandmother into a hug, glad that she was okay.  
“Thank you,” she smiled at Hawkeye. “You saved my life and my granddaughter’s.”  
“It was my pleasure,” he smiled.  
She looked between the two of you with a knowing smile. “I’ll be inside,” she said, slipping back into the cottage and closing the door.  
You nervously nibbled your lower lip as you turned to the hunter beside you. Your minds wandered to one mutual thought as you both leaned in, his hands reaching to cup your face and yours reaching to rest on his chest. His lips pressed against yours gently, experimentally, until you pushed closer as if giving him permission. His hand slid to the back of your head, holding you closer.  
You broke apart for air, foreheads resting together, eyes gazing into one another’s.  
“Ready for that archery lesson?” he smirked.  
You giggled, a blush staining your cheeks. You tilted your head up to peck his lips again. “Ready when you are.”


	12. My Father's Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're Loki's daughter. You have a name.

**My Father’s Daughter**  
Request for DarkMistressAlice  
A/N: Reader has a name.

 

Loki kept many secrets from the world, especially regarding his personal affairs. He didn’t like to boast about the things he’d done, especially when he knew that whatever it was would pale in comparison to his brother’s accomplishments. The younger brother had grown accustomed to keeping his life to himself, sharing his secrets with no one (except Thor, on occasion, when the older god couldn’t keep his nose out of the younger’s business).  
Many people knew about Loki’s children. His horse son, Sleipnir, was Odin’s favorite steed. Many people damned Loki when having to deal with his daughter Hel, most of them losing the argument with the goddess. Fenrir and Jörmungandr received less attention, though they were known for being spawns of Loki as well.  
The one that no one knew about (save for Thor and his nosiness) was you. As the God of Mischief’s daughter, you became a sort of Goddess of Mischief, inheriting your father’s magic abilities and love of trickery. You looked much like him, with your long, silky black hair and emerald green eyes, and when you and Loki were seen separately, many believed that he’d simply turned himself into a woman now and again. No one knew who you were really were, except for the God of Thunder.  
You didn’t mind the secret. You had too much fun playing pranks on the other citizens of Asgard, including your uncle, and being dubbed Lady Loki to care that no one knew your name was Ali or that you were his daughter, not his counterpart. Loki enjoyed watching you run around, beginning at a very young age, wielding your magic and scaring the pants off of the maids. You had a fondness for turning wine into blood and vinegar and when you were older, you particularly enjoyed turning your corset laces into snakes when a servant would try and lace you up. They all blamed Loki, believing you to be Loki, but he never minded. He was used to the blame.

Then your father fell off the Bifrost, and all you had left was your Uncle Thor. You never knew your mother and you forever resented King Odin for how he treated your father.  
Thor took over caring for you, keeping you in Loki’s old chambers, hidden away from the rest of the kingdom. You had been kept a secret for a reason, and though your father was gone, you would honor his wishes.  
After many moons of moping and heartbreak, Uncle Thor announced that Loki had found his way to Midgard, and that he was going to find him. You insisted on going with, only to be shot down. You used your magic to bind Thor’s hands, making him useless, until he agreed to take you with him. You didn’t bother hiding yourself as you made your way with Thor to the bridge – Heimdall saw everything, whether you wanted him to or not, and he knew about you. He also knew of your father’s wishes and never said a word on the matter.  
You silently thanked him for that.

“It’s going to be dangerous,” Thor warned as you landed on Midgard. “He may not be the same Loki that we knew.”  
“He’ll be the same enough for me,” you argued, convinced that no matter what happened to your father, he still loved you.  
You watched as he fought with the Man of Iron, soon putting in your own two cents, creating clones of yourself to distract the mortal so your Uncle could knock him down. Your clones drew back as Captain America came into the scene.  
He stared at you curiously. “Stark, she looks an awful lot like Loki.”  
Tony paused in his getting beaten up to look at you. “Yeah, she does.”  
“She is his daughter,” Thor replied while you glared at the other two.  
“No way,” Tony breathed. “Loki has a kid?”  
“He has many,” Thor corrected. “Now where is he?”

You followed the lot of them back to the Helicarrier where Loki was being contained. Everyone eyed you warily, noting your similarities, and Fury was more than reluctant when you asked to see your father. He let you in but made sure that Agent Barton stood by the door, keeping an eye on you.  
“Ali!” Loki cried in surprise as you rushed up to his cell.  
“Father!” you greeted, eyes widening in fear. “What happened?”  
“I am going to be their King,” he replied simply. You nodded and looked at him. You understood his desire for a throne, to equal Thor’s greatness. You always preferred your father because he could do magic, and he had time for you (and, of course, he was your father), but you knew that most of the kingdom didn’t share your opinion.  
“I have come with Uncle Thor,” you told him. “He said you were alive and…”  
He nodded softly. “I understand. I am sorry I had you believe I was gone. You were safer that way.”  
“I’ll get you out,” you whispered, blinking back tears. There was no way you were going to let these pathetic mortals trap your father.  
Unbeknownst to you, you’d caught the eye of the agent that was supposed to be guarding you. You intrigued him, and the fact that you were the enemy’s daughter was more fascinating than it should have been.

You went along with your father’s plans as he managed to break out of his cell, heading for the agent that had been sent to watch him.  
“We can use him,” he explained as you followed him down the hall. He retrieved his scepter and pressed it against Clint’s chest, and you were surprised when his icy blue eyes glued themselves to you. Loki looked between the two of you as though deciding if he approved of the longing staring contest.  
“What do you need?” Clint asked loyally.  
Loki grinned.

Loki smiled wholeheartedly as the Chitauri attacked the city, destroying buildings, vehicles, and humans alike. You were glad that your father finally got what he wanted, and you honestly weren’t too concerned about the fact that he was trying to enslave an entire realm. What worried you was your developing emotions for the one they called Hawkeye. Part of you didn’t want him to get hurt, tearing you apart as you didn’t know which side to vote for.  
Loki noticed the uncertainty in your eyes and set his face sternly before catching your attention. “Ali.”  
“Yes, Father?” you asked sweetly, turning to face him. Emeralds met emeralds as he looked at you, his eyes growing in realization.  
“You’ve fallen for him,” he spat out.  
“What are you talking about?” you replied innocently. You were a good liar – being the daughter of Silver Tongue, and all – but you couldn’t lie to him.  
“The archer,” he growled. “You’re infatuated.”  
“I am not!” you protested. “I… I only worry that he will hit too many of your army.”  
“Do not lie to me,” he snarled, stepping closer. “I can sense it. It is the same way Thor acts around that pathetic mortal girl of his.”  
You dropped your head, eyes casting to the ground. “I’m sorry, Father. I did not mean for it to happen. I cannot control it.”

That’s when the battle took a turn against Loki. The portal was closed, the aliens dropped lifelessly to the ground, and your father was now cuffed and muzzled and on his way back to Asgard with your uncle.  
“Are you sure you do not want to come back with us?” Thor inquired for the umpteenth time.  
“I am certain,” you replied with a curt nod.  
“I don’t know if I want Reindeer Games’ kid sticking around my city,” Tony frowned.  
“She didn’t attack us at all,” Clint reminded. “She just sat on the sidelines.”  
Loki looked at you with what most misinterpreted as anger and disgust, but you caught the sparkle in his eyes. He was proud of you, even if you were going against him.  
“I will find my own place to stay,” you assured the billionaire. “I won’t come near your precious Avengers.”  
Tony eyed you cautiously before walking away and hopping into one of his fancy sports cars, driving away from the scene. You waved goodbye to your father and uncle as they flashed back to Asgard. No one wanted anything to do with you as they walked away.  
Well, save for one archer.  
“You won’t stay too far away, will you?” Clint whispered beside your head, causing you to turn around and face him.  
You smirked and leaned forward, softly pecking his lips. “You will have to wait and find out.”


	13. You're Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't choose between Clint and Loki

**You’re Beautiful**  
Request for Lillien

 

There was no arguing that you were the most beautiful woman any of the Avengers had ever met. Tony and Thor kept their opinions to themselves due to them already being in romantic relationships, but even Jane and Pepper admitted that you were quite a sight. Your (e/c) eyes sparkled in any light and your (h/l) (h/c) locks were shiny and full of volume. Your nose, lips, and chin fit your face perfectly and proportionally.  
It wasn’t just physical beauty that caught the eye of every man you met. You were a kind person who always tried to help, and you were always friendly to the new kid. Everyone could go to you with their problems and you’d sit and listen, patting their back soothingly and whispering words of reassurance into their hair. You had a beautiful soul, and everyone noticed.

You’d dated and had a few relationships in the past. Some dates lead to a dead end and others led to a blossoming one-sided love interest. You always appreciated and loved the men who worshipped you, but you had yet to fall in love with anyone. Sometimes you wondered if you ever would, but then you’d think about how happy you were with casual dates and Girls Nights with your friends, and you were content with not having a lifelong partner.  
The girls always told you that you’d find the right guy someday. Pepper noted that he may be the one you least expect, like she found in Tony. Jane teased that you may not even know he existed, like her with Thor. Natasha partially understood, though she distinctly chose not to go into a long-term relationship due to the dangers of her job.

You had standards. Your dream guy wasn’t a tall and tan millionaire or anything, but he had to be a good guy. You weren’t sure you could trust a criminal after all you’d seen. You wanted him to be sweet and treat you kindly, and be strong enough to protect you. You sometimes felt as though you asked for too much, but then again, didn’t you deserve a good man who would take care of you?  
You were no stranger to the stares of longing you received from men, and often delivered back. Such stares could be found in the eyes of, surprisingly, Clint and Loki. No one expected either of them to have much care for romance. Clint was a trained assassin, an agent, and he never even talked about past girlfriends. Sure, he’d loosen up when he was out with the guys, drinking and jesting, but he wasn’t one to delve into his past. Loki was a known criminal recently initiated into the Avengers, having turned his life around. He was a flirt and a con, but he never spoke of past lovers either.  
They had both taken quite an interest in you. You helped Clint practice his archery, and he taught you in the process. You were there when he had nightmares about his childhood and needed arms to hold onto him. He always came to you when he needed a shoulder to totally not cry on.  
Loki you weren’t entirely sure about. You understood and respected that he was on your side now, but he was an ex criminal, and it put you on edge. He was nicer to you than he was to the others, noticeably so, but you were wary. He didn’t tease you or put you down – rather, he protected you from the rare rude comment thrown your way and helped you when you needed it. Everyone noticed how his demeanor changed around you.

“Look at you, having two boyfriends,” Jane teased as she sat with you, Pepper, Darcy, Natasha, and Maria. All of you were lounging about your living room, getting ready for a movie night.  
“I don’t have two boyfriends,” you argued with a blush. “I don’t even have one.”  
“But you have two very viable options,” Darcy noted.  
“They are head over heels for you,” Pepper nodded.  
Your blush deepened. “It makes it harder that there are two. They’re both so nice to me. I’d feel bad for the one I didn’t choose.”  
“Then take both!” Darcy reasoned.  
“Darcy!” Jane replied, lightly whacking her arm with the back of her hand.  
“Do you have an interest in either of them?” Natasha asked.  
You bit your lip. “I don’t know.”  
“Tell me Clint’s good qualities,” Maria requested.  
“He’s strong,” you replied. “Protective. He’s very nice, albeit reserved. He trusts me, and I feel like I can trust him.”  
“And Loki’s?” Natasha pressed.  
You paused, thinking. “He’s nicer to me than he seems to be to anyone else. He doesn’t tease me or hurt me. He’s helpful, and kinda sweet.”  
“Maybe you could go on a date with each of them,” Pepper suggested. “Get some one-on-one time and see if you like one more than the other.”  
You nodded slowly, considering her advice.

Loki was first. You thought it best to just get it over with.  
The date consisted of a long walk in the park just before dusk. It was a rather romantic setting, which surprised you seeing as it was Loki’s idea. He behaved himself as your feet padded along the sidewalk, refraining from wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You looked up at him, studying his face. His features were relaxed but his eyes were focused as though he were deep in thought.  
“Loki?”  
He looked down at you, shaking his head slightly. He smiled softly at you. “Are you enjoying our time?”  
“I am, actually,” you smiled. His smile grew, knowing that he managed to make you happy.

You were nervous about your date with Clint. You’d enjoyed Loki’s company far more than you expected to. You felt as though you were two-timing the both of them, testing them out and seeing who made you happier. But they both knew what you were doing and neither seemed to mind.  
Clint took you to your favorite restaurant for dinner. You were pleasantly surprised – you didn’t recall telling him it was your favorite. He seemed to just know.  
The entire evening was spent talking and laughing. It was much more comfortable than your date with Loki. You felt at ease with Clint as though you were already dating. He made you laugh and blush, constantly telling you how beautiful you were. He made you feel special.

“Tonight was amazing,” you told him as the date came to an end. He led you outside and offered you his arm, causing you to smile and wrap your arm around his. You hesitantly rested your head on his shoulder, feeling him relax beneath you.  
“I don’t want to pressure you,” he admitted as you walked back to the Tower. “I know this is hard for you, and I’ll still hang around and talk to you if you choose Loki.”  
You stopped in your tracks, turning until you stood in front of him. He looked at you, brows furrowing in concern and confusion as he worried that he upset you.  
“Can I be honest with you?” you began. He nodded.  
“I think I’ve already chosen.”  
He looked at you pointedly, silently urging you to continue. You bit your lip as a wave of confidence washed over you. You stood on your toes and rested your hands on his shoulders, leaning in close. He met you in the middle, wrapping his arms around your waist. You pressed your lips to his, sighing softly as sparks ignited within you. Your chest exploded like fireworks and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.  
“I choose you,” you whispered after pulling away for air. “I love you, Clint.”  
“I love you too, (y/n).”


	14. Check Yes Juliet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your wedding to Clint

**Check Yes Juliet**  
Request for Sippin on Fire  
A/N: Be warned, there are quite a few notes in this one.

Natasha smiled sincerely as she stepped away, having completed your makeup. Everyone was surprised that the trained assassin wanted to take over your beautification until she revealed that she had to learn how to apply makeup for more than one recon mission. Those lessons must have done it because she did a beautiful job on your eyes, lips and cheeks. Your sparkling (e/c) eyes were lined thinly with gold eyeliner and black mascara, accenting the irises. Your lips were painted with a thin layer of shimmering gloss – enough to draw attention to your lips but not too much so it wouldn’t transfer to your groom. Light pink blush dusted your cheeks as Pepper set to work on your hair. None of your bridesmaids were over girly ladies, but they managed to tag-team and twist your hair into an elegant braided bun, leaving a few curled strands on either side to frame your face. A delicate white flower was pinned to the side of the bun, its silver beads glistening in the light.  
You wore a cream colored dress with cap sleeves and a corset layered in white and gold beads. The skirt was smooth but layered with silk and lace. Your shoes were simple creamy open-toed sandals with three-inch heels.  
Many people were surprised that you and Clint had made it this far. He wasn’t an overly expressive man, and it took him a year just to ask you out. He fell fast and hard, though, and over time his love for you only grew. The two of you managed the most successful relationship that anyone had ever seen between two agents. You mused that both of you working for SHIELD aided your relationship – there were no secrets kept due to dangerous missions and classified information, and you both understood the risks involved with dating an assassin. You could both just be yourselves all the time.  
Another thing that people thought would interfere was your sister Natasha. Being your older sister, she took it upon herself to protect you no matter what. She was reluctant to let you join SHIELD until Fury pointed out that it would make it easier for them to keep an eye on you and therefore ensure your safety. In the beginning, she insisted on accompanying your every mission. After one nearly fatal assignment where she got caught and you saved her ass, she became more lenient with her motherly tendencies.  
Her protective nature applied to every aspect of your life. Even though she knew and trusted Clint, you had a bad track record with guys, and she didn’t want you to get hurt again. She constantly threatened Clint that she’d break his bow and personally neuter him if he ever hurt you – not that he would. He loved you far too much to cause you any harm.

It was time. Since your father was non-existent, (1) you’d asked Fury to walk you down the aisle. He had hesitated but accepted after a pointed glare from Natasha. He’d acted as a father to you both for many years.  
Natasha, Jane, Pepper, and Maria stood to the left of the altar, smiling sweetly and holding bouquets of statice and stephanotis flowers. (2) They wore matching dresses of light blue satin with thin straps and scoop necklines. The fabric layered at the knee-length skirt, puffing out just a bit. They each had a different colored flower pinned in their hair – Natasha’s red, Pepper’s pink, Maria’s blue, and Jane’s white. To the right of the altar stood Clint with a yellow tulip (2) pinned to his lapel and Tony, Bruce, Steve, and Thor beside him. They were all dressed in finely cut black tuxes, each with a different colored bowtie. Clint’s was black, Tony’s red, Bruce’s green, Steve’s blue, and Thor’s gold.  
Fury smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to your temple as you reached your mark. He stepped away and sat in a pew with the rest of your SHIELD family. You passed your bouquet of red tulips, lilacs, and apple blossoms (2) to Natasha before turning and facing Clint. He took your hands in his, running his thumbs over you knuckles. You smiled up at him, instantly impatient for the kiss that would bind your lives together.  
“We’re here today to bind Clint Barton and (y/n) (l/n) in loving marriage,” the priest began. “These two take each other…”  
“To have and to hold,” Clint continued.  
“From this day forward,” you added.  
“For better or for worse...”  
“For richer or for poorer...”  
“In sickness and in health…”  
“‘Til death do us part,” you finished.  
Clint’s dog Lucky (3) sauntered down the aisle with a pillow strapped to his back. Two matching silver bands, engraved on the outside with “Forever and Always,” were tucked securely into the pillow. You and Clint leaned down to pluck the rings from their seats before holding each other’s hands. You watched as he slid one ring onto your finger and smiled as you did the same.  
“By the power vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife,” the priest smiled. “You may kiss the bride.”  
Cheers erupted throughout the church as Clint wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. Your arms secured around his neck as he pressed his lips to yours. The cheers seem to fade into nothing as you lost yourself in his arms and lips, sighing softly without pulling away. He nipped your bottom lip before pulling away and smiling softly.  
You laughed before grabbing his hand and pulling him up the aisle towards the door. The guests tossed forget-me-nots at the two of you as Natasha returned your bouquet to your hands. You stopped at the door and faced away from the crowd, throwing the flowers over your head. You turned to look just before Clint pulled you outside – you winked at a blushing Pepper and flustered Tony as the former caught the bouquet.

 

(1) I don’t know Nat’s back story really but they don’t talk about her family much in any of the movies so I’m saying it’s just her and you.  
(2) As stated in “She Waits For Me,” I like to put in little details that have meaning, like flowers and names. Statice flowers represent success and stephanotis flowers represent good luck. If you want me to leave it open let me know. I just like using pieces with relevant meaning. Yellow tulips mean “hopelessly in love.” Red tulips – declaration of love. Lilacs – first love. Apple blossoms (one of my favorites) – promise.  
(3) I’ve done a bit of research on Clint’s past and I’ve heard Lucky “the pizza dog” mentioned so I thought he could be the ring bearer.


	15. The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're the best karaoke singer in the bar

**The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia**  
Request for Hawkeye's Girl ł Quicksilver's Girl

 

“Hey (y/n),” the bartender greeted with a fond smile, wiping down the counter. You nodded with a sweet smile as you entered the tavern, sliding onto a stool to sit down. You didn’t even have to order – you were a regular here, and the bartender knew your tastes.  
“You singing tonight?” he asked, serving your favorite drink.  
“Of course,” you smiled, taking a sip. “It’s my therapy.”  
He chuckled and nodded at the DJ who then added your name to the list. You sat back and sipped your (f/drink), watching the men play pool and the women gossip and the divas fail miserably at karaoke.

“But this bar is so small!” Tony whined as he followed the guys inside.  
“It’s local,” Clint argued. “No one agreed to give us a ride home, so when we get plastered, we need a place in walking distance.”  
“Bruce doesn’t drink,” Tony reasoned. “He can drive us.”  
“Oh, no,” the doctor shook his head. “Not after last time.”  
“Live music?” Thor noted, wincing slightly at the current singer’s terrible voice.  
“Karaoke,” Steve explained. “The DJ plays instrumental music and people go up and sing along.”  
Thor nodded as the group found a table. Tony sauntered up to the bar and ordered a round of beers, watching you from the corner of his eye. You caught his gaze and recognized him immediately – there was hardly a person in New York that didn’t know who Tony Stark was. You simply shrugged and continued to drink, waiting for your turn.  
“(y/n) (l/n) singing ‘The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia’,” the DJ announced. (1)  
“Show those amateurs how it’s done,” the bartender grinned. You returned it and downed your drink before sauntering up to the stage. Microphone in hand, you listened to the opening music.  
“He was on his way home from Candletop,” you sang, swaying your hips. “Been two weeks gone and he thought he’d stop at Web’s and have him a drink before he went home to her.”  
All talking ceased as your melodic voice carried through the tavern. Tony and friends stopped and turned their heads, watching as you closed your eyes, having no use for the words scrolling across the screen. Clint in particular was mesmerized by the sound, all previous thought trains crashing into one another as he watched you.  
“That’s the night that the lights went out in Georgia. That’s the night that they hung an innocent man,” you continued, opening your eyes to see the crowd. You were confident enough to face them when you sang, and it gave you a boost to know that you caught everyone’s attention. Your eyes locked with baby blues and you almost stumbled, catching yourself before you could noticeably screw up. Why was he so interesting? And why was he so interested in you?

“See something you like?” Tony teased with a grin as Clint continued to stare. The archer tore his gaze away with a glare to the billionaire, earning a laugh from the others.  
“Shut up, Tony,” he defended. “She’s a good singer.”  
“She’s hot, too,” Tony added.  
“You’re taken,” Clint reminded.  
“You’re not,” Tony countered.

“He went off to Andy’s house,” you continued. “Slipping through the back woods, quiet as a mouse. Came upon some tracks too small for Andy to make.”  
“She’s amazing,” Clint breathed, staring at you again. Tony looked at Steve and Bruce, nodding his head towards Clint. The two nodded, silently planning ways to get the archer and the singer together.  
You soon came to the end of your song. “Don’t trust your soul to no backwoods southern lawyer. ‘Cause the judge of the town’s got bloodstains on his hands.”   
Cheers erupted through the bar as the music died out. Cat calls and wolf whistles were heard at every table.  
“Amazing as always, (y/n)!” the bartender called out. You smiled and hopped off the stage, returning to the bar for another drink.  
“There you go,” Tony smirked, elbowing Clint’s side. “We got her name.”  
“(y/n)…” Clint breathed, lost in a daze. Tony looked at Steve and Bruce again, who chuckled and nodded.  
“Hey (y/n),” the bartender said quietly, eyes darting towards the table of guys. “Don’t look now, but you’ve got followers.”  
You waited a moment before casually turning around, seeing five men watching your every move. You recognized them from when you were singing, and your eyes found familiar baby blues once more. You smiled sweetly at them, watching as they blushed and smiled in return. Turning back to the bar, you shared a smirk with the bartender, who chuckled as Tony sauntered up to you.  
“Hey, gorgeous,” he greeted, sitting next to you.  
“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” you replied, glancing at him.  
He frowned. “How did you know?”  
“You’re Tony Stark,” you reminded. “Your business is all over the news.”  
He smiled, pleased with his celebrity status. “So you know my friends then?”  
You nodded. “The Avengers. You’re very famous.”  
“You know,” he began. “We’re not all taken.”  
You ignored how your heart leapt at his words. “That so?”  
He seemed to notice and his smirk widened. “That so. A certain archer friend of mine is particularly single.”  
“And what does that have to do with me?”  
“I saw you staring at him.”  
“Did you now?”  
“And I saw him staring at you too.”  
You nonchalantly sipped your drink, trying to feign indifference. Your heart bubbled and your belly fluttered, and you were sure heat had risen to your cheeks.  
“I’ll leave you with that,” Tony stated, rising from his stool and heading back to the table.  
“You got a thing for Hawkeye?” the bartender teased.  
“Shut up,” you replied as a new presence took Tony’s vacated seat. You turned your head to meet those same baby blues you’d been getting lost in.  
“Hey,” he greeted smoothly.  
“Hi there,” you returned.  
“So I hear your name is (y/n).”  
“Yes it is.”  
“Beautiful name.”  
“Thank you.”  
He watched as you looked at the counter and wondered if you wanted him to leave or if you were just as nervous as he was. Taking a leap of faith, he cleared his throat. “Do you want to get dinner with me?”  
You turned to look at him, finding sincerity in his eyes. You smiled and nodded. “I’d love to.”

Since that evening, you two had become inseparable. You continued to sing regularly at that tavern, especially now that it had become “your place.” Clint came to see you as much as he could. You went there more frequently when he was away on missions, and he’d always surprise you by either showing up during your set to take you home or waiting at home when you weren’t expecting him. You visited the Tower a lot, but you had gotten an apartment to yourselves. It was filled with photos of you and Clint, as well as you with the rest of the team.  
“The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia” became Clint’s favorite song, because it reminded him of you. And when you got pregnant and gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, it became her lullaby. It reminded you both of how you met and fell in love, and it kept you sane when you were apart.

 

(1) I got the idea for the story after I took my mom to a bar to sing karaoke and she was talking about a bar she used to frequent that knew her immediately and cheered whenever she came in. This is her favorite song to sing.


	16. Mean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're Clint's daughter and he finds out that you're getting bullied

**Mean**  
Request for tinker bell  
A/N: Father/daughter fic.  
“Why you gotta be so mean?”

Tears streamed down your face as you stomped down the sidewalk, pulling your coat as tightly around your body as you could. Your head was down, watching your feet. You did all you could make yourself invisible. All you wanted to do was disappear inside yourself and never come out.  
Sometimes, you really wished you were a turtle.

_“Hey, weasel!” a familiarly horrid voice called from behind you. You turned hesitantly, knowing what was coming.  
“Do you really expect people to believe that you’re Hawkeye’s daughter?” Lea, your biggest enemy, sneered.  
“I am his daughter,” you sighed. Why didn’t she believe you?  
“Please,” she scoffed. “Like Clint Barton would ever put up with a loser like you.”  
“Yeah!” her second-hand, Tyra, agreed. “You’re pathetic.”  
“You’re too ugly to be the daughter of an Avenger,” Lea said smugly.  
“And too stupid,” Tyra added. “Superheroes are supposed to be super smart.”  
“You really think people believe you live in Avengers Tower?” Lea continued. “You would never be accepted there. They’d kick you out. No one wants you._

 

This was the reason your dad never wanted you to go to public school. He didn’t see any specific reason for people to tease and torment you, but bullies always found something, and they found something personal.  
You angrily dragged your wrist across your eyes, wiping away the tears as you approached the Tower. You sniffled as JARVIS let you in and took you to your floor.  
“Is something the matter, Ms. Barton?” the AI asked.  
“I’m fine, JARV,” you replied, keeping your eyes down. A sigh left your lips as you shuffled down the hallway to your room.

You were halfway through your geometry homework when a knock sounded on your door. “Who is it?” you called tiredly. Today’s stress was still weighing you down and you didn’t feel like being social.  
“Me,” Clint called from the other side.  
“Come in,” you replied, not taking your eyes off your homework. The door opened to reveal your dad.  
“Are you okay, kiddo?” he asked, sitting at the foot of your bed. “JARVIS said you seemed upset when you came home.” He looked closer, seeing the tear stains on your cheeks and the redness around your eyes. “Hey, what is it?”  
You shook your head, putting on a smile. “Nothing, Dad.”  
“Don’t give me that,” he replied, giving you a look. “You’re upset. What happened?”  
You sighed, looking down at your lap. “Lea.”  
“What did she do now?”  
You thought back to what she said and tears welled behind your eyes. “She said… that I’m too ugly… and too stupid… to be your daughter… or to live in the Tower…”  
“Oh, honey,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around your back. He pulled you into his chest, running his fingers through your hair. “Now you know none of that is true. We love having you here. Everyone loves you. And you’re not ugly or stupid.”  
You nodded into his chest. “I know. I don’t believe her. It’s just…”  
“Just what?” he asked, pulling back to look at you.  
You looked up at him. “You’d think you’d get used to being bullied and yelled at every day but you don’t… I mean I expect it now, it’s not a surprise, but it still hurts…”  
“Just don’t listen to her,” he replied almost pleadingly. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’re not a burden, you’re not ugly, and you’re most definitely not stupid. Come on, you’re Hawkeye’s daughter! You can’t be ugly or stupid when you come from someone like me!”  
You giggled. Your dad’s ego could match Tony’s. “Thanks, Daddy.”  
“Anything for you, honey.”

A few days later, you were back at school. You’d enjoyed the weekend, spending all of your time with the Avengers. You’d almost forgotten about Lea and Tyra and their jests. But as soon as they found you rummaging through your locker, it all came back.  
“Hey, loser,” Lea greeted. You ignored her, sorting through your books.  
“Did you get your head examined yet? Or do you still think you belong with the Avengers?” she continued. You refused to give her power by responding, so you simply shut your locker and turned away.  
“Hey!” she called. “I’m talking to you!” Her hand grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around. You looked at her with an uninterested expression, wondering if it would make her leave.  
It didn’t.  
Angry at your lack of response, her fist collided with your nose. A warm liquid ran down your lip after an unpleasant cracking sound was heard.  
“Lea, Tyra, (y/n),” your teacher called, poking his head out of the classroom. “Class has started. Get in here.”  
The three of you sauntered inside, taking your usual seats. Your teacher didn’t seem to notice your nose as he began speaking.  
“Okay, class,” he said with a grin. “We have a celebrity guest speaker today.”  
“Are you alright, (y/n)?” a familiar voice asked. You looked up from your desk to see your dad kneeling before you.  
“What are you doing here?” you whispered, catching the stares of your classmates from the corner of your eye.  
“Trying to help,” he smiled, kissing your forehead.  
“Our celebrity guest is none other than the Avenger Hawkeye, Mr. Clint Barton!” your teacher announced excitedly. The class erupted in cheers.  
“I received word that some of you have been bullying my daughter,” Clint began, looking around the room. You hadn’t given him descriptions, but he had no problem picking Lea and Tyra out of the crowd. They sat at their desks, picking their nails and looking between Clint and you.  
“Who’s your daughter?” Tyra asked in a snobby voice.  
“(y/n) Barton,” Clint replied. The entire class turned to you.  
“She’s really your daughter?” Lea asked in disbelief.  
“I thought her last name would be obvious enough,” your dad replied, earning a laugh in response. “I want you to know that I don’t take bullying lightly. (y/n) is my pride and joy, and I have a whole team of superheroes looking for justice if anything happens to her.”  
“(y/n),” your teacher said, looking at you. “What happened to your nose?”  
You looked between him and your dad and your bullies. “Lea McClain, sir.”  
“Lea McClain hit you?” your teacher replied with a raised brow. You nodded.  
“Straight to the principal’s office,” your teacher said, glaring at Lea. She scoffed before standing, sneering at you as she left.  
“(y/n), you’re free to go,” your teacher smiled. Clint grinned and picked up your books, leading you out of the classroom.

Once back at the Tower, Clint asked Steve to look at your nose. While he bandaged you, you looked at the archer.  
“Thanks, Daddy,” you smiled.  
“Anything for you, honey.”


	17. And There Goes the Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Male!reader. Playing video games with Clint

**And There Goes the Battle**  
Request for Maximum James Potter-Black  
A/N: Reader is a guy.  
So I had fun with the classic game thing. In the request you mentioned Mario Kart but 1. I’ve never played and 2. It seemed more like an idea than an official request.

Your Blastoise was no match for his Raichu. One Thundershock and he was down for the count. The round was over, and Clint had won again.  
You leaned back against the couch cushions with a half-sincere smile. You loved playing games with your boyfriend, but it’d be nice to win at least once. Oh well, you reminded yourself. Winning doesn’t matter. Just as long as he’s happy.  
“Good game, babe,” Clint smiled, setting his controller on the coffee table. “You hungry?”

Feeling romantic, Clint offered to take you out for dinner. It had been some time since the two of you had been on a proper date, with him always being away on missions, but you didn’t mind. You were happy to just be with him, whether it be writing reports, mindless cuddles, making dinner, or playing games. He knew you were happy regardless, but he always felt like he didn’t do enough for you, and he always felt bad when he had to be away for weeks to months at a time for missions.  
As soon as he returned, he’d take you out or buy you something, though you insisted that it wasn’t needed. You repeatedly told him that you were just happy he was home and that you’d be fine with watching a movie together, but he felt like it wasn’t enough. He’d take you to the theater or the arcade, anything to see you smile.

Your favorite restaurant was only a ten minute walk away, so Clint grabbed his jacket and offered you his hand. You accepted with a small smile – he was always such a gentleman.  
Once out of your shared apartment, you tugged your jacket closer to your body, unprepared for the night’s chill. The hand holding yours removed itself so the arm could wrap warmly around your shoulders. Your arm, in turn, wrapped around his waist as you made your way to the restaurant.  
The hostess recognized you with a smile and led you to your favorite table in the back. At first you thought she’d just recognized the Avenger you’d come in with, but after a while, you discovered that you and Clint went there so often that she remembered you.  
Clint smiled as he sat down across from you, taking your hand in his. You accepted sweetly, amazed that all his years as an assassin hadn’t killed his romantic side. You lifted his hand to your mouth and kissed his fingers – a gesture you’d made habit whenever he was trying to apologize and you wanted to show him you forgave him.  
He understood the silent message and squeezed your fingers. “I don’t like month-long missions. I don’t like being the only one who gets month-long missions.”  
“But you’re the best at what you do,” you reminded him. “Fury recognizes your skill and gives you the most dangerous missions because he knows you can handle it.”  
“But I barely get to see you as it is, having a mission every other week,” he sighed. “I don’t like having extra time away from you.”  
Again you kissed his fingers, knowing he was trying to apologize for being gone so long. “I understand. I don’t like you being gone either, but it’s your job.”  
“A job I can’t get out of,” he sighed again. “I can’t even take you on proper dates on my time off. I’m always too tired or too busy with reports.”  
“You know how we watch movies and order pizza and play video games?” you smiled. He nodded. “Those are dates to me. Alone time with you, doing whatever we feel like, with no pressure and little cost. Those are proper dates.”  
“But I like taking you out,” he insisted. “I like showing you off to the world, getting out of the apartment and pretending I’m not a government agent.”  
“We can still do that,” you replied. “We’re doing that now. I just don’t want you to force yourself. When you’re busy, I’ll make dinner and wait for you. When you’re tired, we can cuddle and watch Star Wars. We don’t have to go out and get fancy. I love sitting at home doing nothing.”  
“Really?” he asked, and you could tell this had been bothering him. “I always worry that it’s not enough, that you’re bored. I want to give you everything I can.”  
“And you have,” you insisted. “You’re my boyfriend, and you’re not going away. That’s all I want.”

When you returned to your shared apartment, the both of you were content and ready to relax. Clint retreated to the bedroom to change clothes while you sat in the living room, setting up the Nintendo 64. Classic video games always calmed the both of you, so you watched the Pokémon Stadium menu flashed on the screen.  
Clint grinned as he entered the living room. Pokémon Stadium was your favorite, so he knew you were in a good mood. He sat beside you and accepted the controller you passed to him, watching as you maneuvered the menu to get to the customized battle screen.  
“Hey, babe,” he said, catching your attention. “Can you get us some drinks?”  
You nodded with a smile, pushing yourself off the couch. He waited until you were in the kitchen before quickly modifying the names of his chosen Pokémon set.  
You returned with two sodas and sat beside the archer. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you picked up your controller, happening to glance at the Pokémon he chose. Your brows furrowed as you noticed he changed their names. You knew it was an option, but he’d never used it. Blastoise, your favorite, was left with its original name. But the next four Pokémon, in order, were named “Will,” “You,” “Marry,” and “Me.”  
You turned to him to find him kneeling on the floor with a velvet box in his hand. His other hand opened the box to reveal a simple silver band with your names engraved in script.  
“(y/n),” Clint whispered, taking your left hand in his right, “will you marry me?”  
Your hands reached out, resting on either side of his face, pulling him close. Your lips pressed to his, a soft sigh escaping yours.  
“Yes,” you whispered, barely pulling away. He grinned and slipped the ring onto your finger before sitting beside you and kissing you properly. Your fingers tangled in his hair while his arms wrapped around your waist. The game was forgotten as he lied down, pulling you down with him.


	18. Angel in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is the only one who doesn't think you're a freak

**Angel in the NightM/strong >  
Request for Anaklusmos522  
A/N: To avoid confusion I’m going to mention it now – you’re an angel (mutant).**

**You had been trained by the best archer in the business, and he would happily agree. He took you in as a new Avenger, gently coaxing you into team events and training sessions – which surprised you, because all the rumors described Hawkeye as a stoic, seemingly unemotional agent. But since your very first day, he had been nothing but kind to you, showing patience when you messed up your aim and offering helpful hints rather than harsh criticism. He was only impatient when you made a mistake while he was preparing for a mission, and you understood that tension ran high during such times.  
He wasn’t the least bit judgmental when you showed him your wings. After your family’s freak out and shunning, you’d grown ashamed of them, believing yourself to be a freak.  
You’d run away from your home town, living in homeless shelters and soup kitchens until you decided that maybe your wings could help you – and the people around you. You taught yourself how to use them, flying yourself around the city, keeping an eye open for anyone in need. You’d saved several children from vehicular collisions, flying them out of the street just as the drivers slammed on their breaks. You’d rescued a few old ladies’ purses from muggers, using one wing to slap the mugger in the face while you returned the purse to the victim.**

**It was your fearless community service habits that caught SHIELD’s attention.  
You were flying high above the city, far enough away for most people to dismiss you as some kind of bird. You were minding your own business when you happened to look down and spot hundreds of citizens running and screaming in terror. Looking around, you caught the source – a large, flying alien monster. You knew you had no chance of fighting it, so you flew lower and looked for the less fortunate civilians that you could assist. You helped a few elderly folks get to safety in a timely manner, and you rescued a few slow pets and lost children before the creatures could get to them.  
A certain archer noticed your selflessness as he was shooting arrows from the rooftops and pressed a hand to his earpiece. “Sir, there’s a young woman with angel wings saving civilians. Have you heard of her?”  
Back at Headquarters, Fury replied, “There have been reports, but we haven’t had any personal encounters. Get her attention before you come back to the Helicarrier.”  
“Yes, Sir,” Hawkeye agreed, shooting another creature while his gaze followed you.  
After the battle, you were making small talk to a young mother whose baby you’d returned to her. She thanked you repeatedly and told you what a blessing your wings were, that you’d been graced by God. You smiled and nodded politely. You weren’t a religious person, but your powers had to come from somewhere, and a religious compliment was better than all the occult insults.  
“Hey,” a voice called from behind you. You turned around, eyes widening at the source. One of the Avengers was approaching you… but why? Had you gotten in the way? Did they think you were a threat?  
“Agent Clint Barton of SHIELD,” he introduced, holding out a hand. You shyly offered yours, mumbling your own name.  
He smiled softly. “I saw you helping some people during the fight. You’re very brave.”  
A blush stained your cheeks. “I like to help. Do what I can.”  
“That’s what caught my attention,” he admitted. “The Director of SHIELD wants to know if you’d be interested in joining the Avengers.”**

**He’d stuck by your side since then. He’d become your best friend and guide to all things SHIELD and Avengers, as well as your mentor.  
You grew closer with each passing day. It wasn’t long before you developed a crush on the masterful archer. You constantly tried to pass it off as deep admiration, reminding yourself that he wasn’t interested. He didn’t have time for romance, and if he did, he probably had a thing for Agent Romanoff.**

**His next move surprised you.  
You were in the workout room, sparring with your favorite archer as he taught you crucial self-defense moves. You had hesitated when you first began this type of training. He’d told you to go at him with all your strength, the intention being to take him down as though he were a true predator. After the first few hits, after which he pinned you to the mat and you had a hard time disliking the development, you got into a rhythm and were able to swing and kick without worrying that you would actually injure him.  
He was strong enough that even a direct hit from you wouldn’t cause too much damage, though he constantly insisted that you should put all your effort into it, because a real predator wouldn’t go easy on you. You’d come a long way, even managing to cause a couple of bruises. He constantly told you how proud he was, and when you relayed those praises to the others, they looked at you with wide eyes.  
“The Hawk complimented you?” they would ask.  
“He never compliments anyone,” they would explain.  
It wasn’t that he was antisocial, he was just stern. He and Natasha shared the trait of hiding their emotions to protect their feelings.  
So during your latest sparring session, you ended up pinned beneath him. You didn’t get a lot of sleep the night before, so you were tired and slow to respond.  
“Easily attacked today,” he teased, looking down at you.  
“Tired,” you reasoned, knowing that you’d done well enough lately that he’d let it slide. According to the others, he worked you as hard as he worked all his interns, but he was kinder to you, having learned that yelling at you reminded you of your hateful parents and did not encourage you to do better next time.  
“Didn’t sleep well?” he asked, brows furrowing in concern.  
You shook your head, looking away slightly, which told him what was wrong.  
“Nightmares?” he guessed.  
You nodded softly. You still had occasional nightmares of your parents, along with the rest of society, shunning you for your differences. You’d woken up screaming once, causing Clint to come running in, thinking you were in danger. You ended up sobbing into his chest, explaining the dream after you calmed down. He held you softly, running a hand through your hair and rubbing soothing circles on your back.  
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You knew he was nowhere near this kind to the other trainees. You smiled softly at him, silently wishing that the gesture meant more.  
“Hey,” he whispered, catching your attention.  
You tilted your head in a silent response.  
“Do you wanna go on a date with me?”  
Your eyes widened slightly as you looked up at him. “Really?”  
Closing his eyes, he leaned down, closing the gap. You responded immediately, months of suppressed emotion bubbling to the surface. His fingers intertwined with yours, holding your hands above your head.  
“Is that a yes?” he grinned, pulling away.  
You nodded, matching his grin. “Yes.”**

**You’d been going strong since then. You had all your missions together and you’d become nearly as good of an archer as Clint. He took pride in all that he taught you, and your wings became incredibly useful when there were too many snipers to hit.  
It made sense why he refused to leave your hospital bed after your latest mission. Your wings hadn’t been fast enough and Clint had run out of arrows. You’d been shot right in the wing – a wound that took longer than normal to heal and was hard for doctors to attend to unless they were used to mutants. Thankfully, SHIELD medical professionals had some experience with mutant powers and injuries and were able to properly medicate and bandage your wing.  
You were unconscious for a full day after Clint carried you in, wings outstretched. He laid you on a hospital bed and was kicked out for a few hours while the doctors took care of you, and he was the first person back in your room after you were done. He never left, not so much out of guilt but out of worry. There was a small pang of guilt inside him for running out of arrows and not informing you in time, but right now, he just worried that you would be okay.**

**He was there at your bedside, holding your hand and watching your heart monitor when you woke up. You smiled softly at him as he peppered your face in kisses, thanking whatever entity above that you were alright. You scooted over on your bed, making room for him to join you. He laid beside you, one arm beneath your head and the other wrapped around your waist.  
“Oh good,” a nurse called from the doorway, “you’re awake.”  
She sauntered in and took your vitals, concluding that you were healing properly. She changed the bandages on your wing before smiling cheekily at you.  
“We ran some tests,” she began, “to determine that your injury wasn’t a deeper issue. I have some good news.”  
You shared a look with Clint before looking back at the nurse.  
She held up a printed photo of black and white and grey lines, with your name and the date at the top. “You’re pregnant.”  
You took the ultrasound from her hands and showed it to Clint, jaw dropping in surprise. You looked at him as he held the ultrasound in his own hand.  
“We’re having a baby,” you breathed.  
“We’re having a baby,” he repeated with a grin. Letting go of the photo, his hand reached up to cup your face, pulling your lips to his. You smiled against his lips, happy tears falling from your eyes.  
“We’re having a baby!”**


	19. Untitled Sick Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gets sick. Creative, title, huh?

**Untitled Sickness Story**  
Request for Nova’s Girl  
A/N: I apologize that it’s a shorter one. I was short on ideas.

You knew you shouldn’t have let him play out in the snow for so long. You had even told him so, warning him that he could catch a cold and be bed-ridden for weeks. But he didn’t listen, and you didn’t enforce it. Watching him connect with his inner child, running about in the fresh blanket of white sparkles and trying to catch new ones on his tongue, crumbled your resolve and you let him stay out as long as he liked.

“You could have made me come inside,” he insisted through his stuffy nose. “You know you have the power.”  
“I told you what would happen if you didn’t, and you stayed outside anyway,” you reminded. “Besides, I rarely get to see you so happy.”  
“What are you talking about? I’m happy all the time with you. Happier than that.”  
“But you were so peaceful…” You smiled and shook your head. “If you could have seen yourself, you wouldn’t have stopped you, either.”  
"If I'd have known it would have gotten me a cold then yes I would have," Clint mumbled. You rolled your eyes, getting up off the bed. Clint rolled over so his face was in the pillow and groaned.  
"How about some tea?" you offered. You saw Clint slightly nod, even though his face was buried. You slipped away into the kitchen.  
As the kettle boiled you couldn't help feeling it was your fault Clint was ill. After all he was right; you should have brought him in. You hated seeing the one you dearly loved sick.  
Carefully, you carried a cup of chamomile tea into Clint's room. He managed to sit up and take it, taking a few sips. Your hand went to his forehead. He felt really hot.  
But hey, when wasn't your boyfriend hot?  
You were concerned for Clint. He was meant to have a simple cold but instead he felt like he had a full on fever.  
"Maybe I should get Bruce back in for you...?" you suggested. Clint shook his head.  
"I'll be fine," he sniffed. You handed him a tissue.  
"This is why I love you. You take such good care of me," he smiled. You got up and heard Clint whimper. You grabbed a movie you thought Clint would love; Disney's Brave, before changing into a (f/c) tank top and pajama pants and getting into bed beside Clint. He snuggled into your side as you wrapped your arms around him.

The next morning was even worse. Your archer’s sinuses were so congested that he could only breathe through his mouth, leading to a sore throat and chapped lips. His voice was hoarse though he rarely tried to use it, and he had a sneezing fit every five minutes. Several empty tissue boxes littered the floor, along with a grocery bag full of tissue bundles. Most of your coffee mugs were in the sink, having been used for tea.  
You were currently standing in the kitchen, stirring a medium sized pot on the stove. Inside the pot was chicken broth, chunks of chicken, chopped up celery, and a bag of egg noodles. Homemade chicken soup. Only the best for your boyfriend. You were also making some for yourself in hopes of not catching his cold.  
Once the chicken and noodles were cooked, you turned off the burner and poured the soup into two bowls. You fetched a fold-out tray from the cupboard and set the bowls on it, each with a spoon. You also made Clint another cup of tea, peppermint this time, and set it on the tray.  
You carefully sauntered down the hall to your shared bedroom to deliver treatment to the archer. He smiled at you gratefully as you walked in. You set the tray on the nightstand after moving the box of tissues and bottle of cold medicine out of the way.  
He sat up with your help, rubbing his head. You’d recently given him Excedrin – you were just waiting for it to kick in. You pressed a kiss to his hot forehead and frowned. You really wanted him to feel better.  
“This soup is amazing,” he commented, gently blowing on the liquid. You smiled softly and ran a hand through his bed-head hair.  
“Can I get you anything else?” you asked as he continued eating.  
“Just cuddles,” he replied, setting the bowl down. You smiled brightly and crawled around the bed, slipping under the covers beside him. He was more affectionate when he was sick, less professional, so you got more attention. You opened your arms and he curled into your chest, burying his nose in your neck. Your arms wrapped around his back as you pulled the comforter up and over the both of you.  
Within minutes, both of you were asleep.


	20. Take Me Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint saves you after the fight

**Take Me Home**  
Request for Nova’s Girl  
A/N: Co-written by ViolinFire14.

The battle of New York had destroyed half of the city. Half the buildings had collapsed, and some of those had maybe half the original structure left.  
Dead bodies of the aliens that had ruthlessly attacked littered the ground, discarded as if their lives were worthless. The surviving citizens were helping clear away some of the rubble, whilst the Avengers were picking up large debris and tossing it into even larger truck beds.  
Some members of the gang were also scouting the city, checking to see if there were any civilians that had gotten trapped amongst the rubble. So far, there had only been one or two. Nobody had seen any more yet, which was a relief.

You groaned in pain as you regained consciousness. You could not remember what had happened. You lifted your head slightly, struggling as though the weight of it was too much for a moment, and looked around.   
You were inside a broken building, the lighting fairly dark, but there was enough light coming from outside shining through the large hole in the wall to see.  
You tried sitting up but found you couldn't. You felt a heavy weight against your leg. Looking down, you saw the source of the problem was that a long beam was crushing it. You tried yelling for help, hoping someone would hear you.  
Unfortunately, after half an hour of trying, nobody came. It was awfully silent, you thought to yourself. Tiredness suddenly hit you, and your world turned black as you let it pull you to sleep.

You jolted awake as you felt someone carrying you. You didn’t remember feeling your body being moved, but it was nice to be carried in warm, strong arms. You opened your heavy eye lids, and peered up at your rescuer. His hair was quite short and dark brown. You couldn't quite see his face properly, which didn't help when trying to discover who it was.  
You then realized you were being carried through long corridors with glass windows looking out onto the city. You heard a door opening and noticed you were being placed down onto a bed. The moment your head hit the pillow, you fell back into a slumber.

The next time you woke, you noticed you were not alone. The man with dark brown hair was sleeping in a sitting position by the bed. He looked exhausted. You shifted slightly, which made enough noise to make him wake up.  
“Ah, you’re awake,” he greeted, his voice thick with sleep. “We weren’t sure you’d made it.”  
“Make it from what?” you asked, your own voice scratchy from lack of use.  
“You were trapped under debris, probably for a while,” he explained. “You were halfway buried alive when I found you.”  
“Were you the one that carried me out?”  
He nodded.  
“Well… Thank you.”  
You began looking around, noting the grey walls and familiar black symbol printed in the center of the wall in front of you. Other than the off colors, it looked like a regular hospital room, with a large white bed and a small metal nightstand. The floors were polished tile and a large window sat in the middle of the wall to your left. Your savior, who you now recognized as the famous Hawkeye, was seated to your right, the door a few feet away from him.  
“Where am I?” you asked.  
“SHIELD’s infirmary,” he replied. “It was closer than the local hospital, and we needed to get you seen without being hounded by civilians.”  
“When can I go home?”  
“Where do you live?”  
You gave him your apartment and street names and he paled.  
“That entire street has been destroyed,” he said solemnly. “There’s nothing left but crashed buildings and broken pavement.”  
An outward gasp left your lips and you felt your world crumbling. What would you do now? All of your belongings were in your apartment, save for what little you kept in your car. You had no clothes to change into, little money to your name, and nowhere to live.  
“I’m sorry…” he admitted. “SHIELD can help you restart. You might have to help us out, but we won’t make you work for us. We can help you get a place to live.”  
“I’d appreciate that,” you nodded, your voice breaking. You couldn’t believe everything was gone. You weren’t a very materialistic person, but your entire life was in that apartment. You had no family here, no one to turn to.

Director Fury agreed to Clint’s promise and made an agreement to help you get your life back. In exchange you’d assist him with filling out paperwork and filing mission reports from the other agents. For the time being, you were given a guest room in Stark Tower, and Tony Stark himself took you shopping for necessities. He bought you new clothes and toiletries, along with bedding and enough décor to make the guest room your own. You insisted that you didn’t need materialistic items, only enough to keep yourself alive and clean, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He and the other Avengers felt that you deserved to be comfortable.  
Of course, the others questioned Clint’s attachment to you. Why was he so interested in helping a random civilian? SHIELD would have helped anyone brought to their infirmary, but why was their number one archer so invested in your wellbeing?  
They questioned him one night. The Avengers gathered in the rec room after you went to bed.  
“What’s so special about (y/n)?” Tony asked, sipping his drink.  
“You’re awfully attached, Clint,” Natasha smirked.  
The archer scrunched up his face and shook his head. “I’m not attached. I just want to help.”  
“You’ve never been this interested before,” Tony reminded.  
“You’ve spent all of your spare time with her,” Bruce commented.  
“Well I’m the one that saved her,” he defended. “I’m allowed to be concerned.”  
“You’re not concerned, Clint,” Tony smirked. “You’re infatuated.”  
“I think you love her,” Steve smiled.  
“You’re all insane,” Clint argued.

After a few weeks, Clint finally admitted that his friends had been right. You were all he could think about, whether it was thinking about your beauty, wondering how you were faring, or helping you get back on your feet.  
You’d surprised him by asking him to teach you archery. You explained that you’d like a way to defend yourself, though deep down you wanted an excuse to spend time with him. He agreed immediately, seeming to be just as excited as you were.  
You had several one-on-one training sessions. You weren’t very good at first, so he stood behind you with his hands over yours, placing your fingers in the correct positions. You tried to ignore the increased beating of your heart as his chest pressed against your back.  
You let out a squeal of delight as the arrow hit the bull’s-eye, turning around in Clint’s arms. You didn’t give it a second thought as you wrapped your arms around his neck in a grateful hug. He hesitated in shock before wrapping his arms around your waist.  
“Thank you for teaching me,” you whispered, gasping when you realized your proximity. You looked up at him, arms still around him. He leaned forward, his forehead resting on yours.  
“Can I be honest with you?” he asked.  
You nodded.  
“I think I’ve fallen for you.”  
You bit your lip and grinned. “I’ve fallen for you too.”  
His grin matched yours as he leaned in and claimed your lips. You didn’t even care when you heard wolf whistles and applause from the doorway.


	21. That's My Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dad!Clint. Bullied!Reader.

**That’s My Girl**  
Request for tinker bell  
A/N: Daddy/daughter fic. No romance.  
I tried to make it different than the other Daddy!Clint x bullied!reader story.  
This one doesn’t focus so much on the Daddy!Clint part. He’s only in the end really. Sorry.

 

Pathetic. Idiot. Loser. Useless. Worthless. Trash.  
You’d heard it all before. The past three years of high school as well as three years of middle school had gotten you used to the harsh words from others. Spiteful comments from hateful girls didn’t even faze you anymore. Your emotions had gone numb after so many years of pain. You learned how to close your heart to unfriendly people.  
In sixth grade, when the judgments began, you confided in your father. He simply told you that those girls were stupid and jealous, and that you shouldn’t listen to them. Not expecting a better answer from anyone else, you kept the rest of your bullying experiences to yourself.  
A couple of times, your predator’s had been caught by a staff member. You’d both be called into the office where the principal would hear both of your sides. If you were called in together, you’d keep quiet and agree with whatever the bully said. They’d only come after you worse if you didn’t. If you were called in separately, you’d admit that the other did something wrong, and of course, when they got punished, they’d come after you again.  
There was no winning for you.

One of your personality quirks that opened a world of bullying was that you were a bookworm. You always carried at least three books in your messenger bag for when you finished your classwork early or in case you had to wait somewhere for a ride or appointment. You preferred hardbacks as they were easier to fit in your bag without worrying that you were bending the cover. Paperbacks were so fragile that you left all of yours at home.  
You could always be found reading about fairies or mermaids, vampires or demigods, mystery or fantasy. You loved losing yourself in the fanatical tales of romance and valor, danger and magic.  
You’d always ask Thor or Loki to tell you stories of growing up in Asgard. Loki would embellish tales of learning magic and outwitting Thor, and the blond would excitedly recall a fight against another realm or a sparring match in the garden. Loki had even given you a few books of his own to keep you entertained while you were away from the Tower.  
Alona, your biggest offender, loved to tease you for your love of other worlds. Whenever she found you with your nose in a book, she’d take action. Her favorite was to reach out her hands and close the book in your face, occasionally catching the tip of your nose but most of the time just startling you. She would also press on the back of the book to slam it into your face, or call you a nerd and snatch the book from your hands.  
Her lackeys, Sandra and Lexi, would laugh like schoolgirls while Alona tormented you. So far, it hadn’t led to violence. Alona and her girls would start with the book jokes, and when you were feeling particularly confident and ignored them, they brought out the big guns and told you how worthless and ugly you were.

You grew tired of their jests and jokes. Teachers interfering didn’t deter them one bit. They just hid their attacks from prying eyes, often passing you notes or waiting until you were alone during a break.  
You weren’t an aggressive or confrontational person by nature. You were calm and happy, never minding homework and always wanting to read. Living with the Avengers- which no one knew about because who would believe you anyway?- hadn’t changed your placid demeanor. You were always surrounded by chaos and tension, so you would sit in your room and lose yourself in your books.  
One morning as you prepared for the day ahead, you realized that you’d finished all of your homework for the next week. Being a straight A student, you always finished your classwork early as well, so you often used the extra time in class to begin homework in case something happened at the Tower to make you lose time.  
Proud of your efforts, you stuffed a couple extra hardback books into your messenger bag. It weighed it down a little, putting some extra pressure on your shoulder, but it would be worth it. Your arms were accustomed to carrying bits of your excessive collection.  
You knew your extra fantasies would cause extra teasing. The lackeys always loved to pick on the nerds. You mused that it was because they were jealous. The jocks and preps often had to stay in for lunch or break because they’d spend too much class time chatting and bullying and never finish their work. They always targeted the good kids like you, the ones who finished early and either began homework or took the extra time for themselves.  
You shrugged as you made your way to school. It wasn’t your fault everyone else was so stupid and couldn’t focus. You were a smart girl, and you liked to take advantage of that.

You really were tired. Three years of high school along with three solid years of middle school spent listening to their relentless torments and taunts. You’d gotten used to it enough that you could block them out, so long as they didn’t snag the book you were reading. Of course, that was why you carried extras, but you certainly didn’t like the idea of your precious book falling into their filthy hands. Who knew if you’d ever get it back? Books could be expensive, and you were very protective of your collection.  
You finally snapped.  
Alona and her team followed you to the outside picnic area where students were allowed to go during lunch or break. You had been trying all day to find some alone time to calm down, but they wouldn’t let up. All of the pent up anger inside you that you’d pushed down because you were a good girl was bubbling to the surface. And it was all forming an arrow that pointed at Alona.  
“Hey, nerd!” she sneered. “What are you reading today? A romance novel? You know you’ll never get a boyfriend. Who would date a nerd like you?”  
You didn’t care much for romance or boys in real life. You were perfectly content reading about cutesy love stories and perfect first boyfriends. But you were so tired of her comments. She always had to have something to say about everything.  
“Hey, Alona,” you called, standing from the spot you’d claimed on the bench.  
That surprised her enough. You rarely responded to her comments, much less addressed her directly.  
“You think you can just talk to me, you little-”  
You’d slipped the strap of your bag over your shoulder and gripped it in both hands while she’d been talking. She was cut off as you raised it up and swung hard, turning your body as the bag collided with the side of her face. The sound of books against bone could be heard as she fell to the ground, clutching her cheek.  
“You bitch!” she cried. “Who do you think you are?”  
“Just shut up,” you groaned, willingly following the principal to her office when you saw her disapproving glare.

They called your father down to the school, and everyone was in awe when one of Tony Stark’s sleek black sports cars pulled up along the curb. Clint got out of the passenger’s side– because Tony would never let someone else drive his baby– and came into the school.  
“What happened?” he asked the principal, checking you over for injuries.  
“I’m fine, Dad,” you said quietly, hearing the gasps from the students eavesdropping from outside.  
“Your daughter is unharmed,” the principal stated. “However, she’s in a lot of trouble.”  
“What happened?” Clint repeated.  
“(y/n), would you care to explain?” the principal asked.  
“It was Alona again,” you shrugged. “I finally did something about it.”  
“What did you do?” Clint inquired, intrigued.  
“She hit the girl upside the head with her book bag,” the principal replied, clearly upset.  
Clint tried to hide his smirk as he turned to you. “Didn’t you take extra books to school today because of all your free time?”  
“Yep,” you nodded.  
Clint’s mind created the image of your bag full of hardback books hitting Alona in the face and he lost his resolve. He doubled over in his seat, hand on his stomach, howling with laughter.  
“Mr. Barton, this is no laughing matter,” the principal cried. “Your daughter injured another student. She needs to be punished!”  
“Punish her however you like,” Clint replied, trying to settle down. “Suspend her, give her extra work, hell you can even expel her if you want.” He stood up, offering you a hand and pulling you up with him. “We’re going to get ice cream.”  
With that, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you out to Tony’s car, while the principal fumed at her desk for losing the discussion.


	22. I Hope That You Remember Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gets amnesia

**I Hope That You Remember Me**  
Request for Thalia  
A/N: Ha. I’ve used one song for three different titles.

You were so relieved when your favorite archer opened his eyes, reassuring you that he had survived the explosion.

The last mission had not gone as planned. Being a low grade agent, you were instructed with filing reports and computer maintenance while Agents Barton and Romanoff went out on the field. You didn’t mind; it was safer, and you rather enjoyed reviewing the mission reports to ensure that everything had gone well.  
Clint and Natasha were sent with a crew of relatively new agents on a retrieval mission. It was simple and low risk. There were only a couple of guards watching the doors, and the inside seemed clean enough. Clint and Nat were sent in first while the others waited at the rendezvous point. They took out the guards easily, Clint shooting them from afar with his arrows before Nat crept up behind them and knocked them unconscious.  
The issue had occurred once they got inside the warehouse. They called in the other agents, assuming the coast was clear. But SHIELD’s systems hadn’t detected the dozens of booby-traps that littered the warehouse, and several of them were explosive.  
Clint’s clunky boots tripped an invisible wire, and within seconds the entire area was on fire. A flame rippled across the floor and spread to the various wires littering the room. The wires ignited the complex systems of computers, all of them combusting simultaneously. The new agents didn’t survive, not having the experience to know how to get out. Nat and Clint managed to stumble outside and collapse on the ground, keeping them alive until SHIELD’s recovery copter arrived.

You stayed by Clint’s bed side until he awoke. You two had been dating for two years, and he had just proposed to you one week previous. Just before he had been sent away, you’d bought a certain plastic stick at the drug store and used it properly, nearly fainting when the small digital screen showed two pink lines. You hadn’t had time to tell Clint the good news, and now you had to wonder if he was even alive.  
You nearly cried when his eyes opened and he began looking around. He shifted and tried to sit, restricted by pain and bandages.  
“Be careful,” you warned sweetly, reaching out to steady him. To your dismay, he shifted away.  
“I’m fine, lady,” he grumbled.  
Lady? He’d never called you “lady,” unless he was teasing.  
“I’m just trying to help,” you replied softly, backing away. Perhaps he was just grouchy, having just woken up.  
“I don’t need your help,” he stated. “Who are you, anyway?”  
A startled gasp left you as you stared at him. “What are you talking about? I’m your fiancée.”  
He snorted a laugh. “I don’t have a fiancée.”  
Tony and Steve knocked on the doorframe, asking if they could come in. You turned away from Clint with tears in your eyes and ran out the door.  
Tony and Steve looked at each other and then at Clint, wondering what happened.

“He didn’t remember you?” Maria clarified.  
You sniffled and shook your head. “He told me to leave him alone, and he said that he doesn’t have a fiancée.”  
Pepper wrapped you in a hug while Maria took your empty teacup and refilled it with steamy water. She placed a bag of chamomile tea inside before handing it back to you.  
“I’m sure it’s only temporary,” Pepper tried to assure you.  
“Yeah,” Maria agreed. “He’ll be better in no time.”  
“What if he isn’t?” you whispered. “What if it’s permanent?”  
“We’ll get Bruce to check it out for you,” Pepper promised. “Maybe he knows how to jog Clint’s memory.”  
You nodded and closed your eyes with a whimper, leaning against her shoulder as more tears fell.

A week passed and no progress had been made.  
Bruce and the others tried to convince Clint of his relationship with you, but nothing sparked his memory. He wasn’t so much refusing the idea as simply not recalling anything from it. Every day broke your heart more and more. They all showed him pictures of you two together, played videos from past parties, and even gave him your engagement ring. He didn’t recognize any of it, and that tore you apart.  
You would often retreat to your room after another bout of bad news, wanting nothing more than to curl into your blankets and cry yourself to sleep. You knew there were healthier ways to spend your time, such as SHIELD work, but you could hardly pull yourself out of bed. It seemed like Clint would never remember you… What were you going to do about the baby?  
You’d told the girls. They offered to throw you a shower, but it didn’t feel right without Clint involved. The boys didn’t even know yet. You had been too depressed to tell them.

“Maybe you can talk to him,” Tony suggested as you sat silently at the kitchen table.  
“He doesn’t want to see me,” you replied emotionlessly.  
“It might help,” Steve reasoned, sitting beside you. “It’s one thing to hear about it from us. It might help if he hears it from you.”  
“Has he asked to see or talk to me since you told him we were supposed to be together?” you asked, looking into his eyes. “No, he hasn’t. That means he doesn’t care. It’s over.”  
You stood abruptly and stormed out, heading to your room for more self-pity.  
Pepper sighed and sat on Tony’s lap. “I feel so bad for her.”  
“Me too,” Steve noted. “I wish we could help.”  
“We need to get her to talk to him,” Maria insisted. “I really think hearing it from her will spark something.”  
Steve nodded in agreement. “She doesn’t want to, though.”  
“We’ll have to make her, then,” Tony sighed.  
“I’ll talk to her,” Pepper offered. “Woman to woman. I might be able to reason with her.”

After several hours and another crying session, Pepper convinced you to try and talk to Clint. You were reluctant and tried to turn around several times, but she kept an arm around your shoulders and led you to his hospital room.  
You’d visited Natasha a couple of times, carefully bypassing Clint’s room so you didn’t have to face the rejection. Even Nat tried to convince you to talk to him, but it always ended in tears and disagreement.  
You knocked softly on the door, wanting nothing more than to turn away but Pepper held you in place. Clint looked up from the pile of photos in his lap and quickly looked back down.  
“I told you this was a bad idea,” you whispered in a final attempt to leave.  
“No, it isn’t,” Pepper argued. “Now get in there.”  
She left you alone to stand awkwardly in the doorway.  
“You can come in,” he stated, not looking up again.  
You shuffled in, sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs. You chose the one furthest away from the bed. You’d never felt more rejected as you absent-mindedly placed a hand on your belly.  
He noticed your fidgeting and raised a brow. “Why do you keep rubbing your stomach?”  
A blush heated your cheeks. “It’s nothing. Just a stomach ache.”  
He eyed you for a moment before returning to the photos. “I don’t recognize any of these people.”  
“That’s unfortunate,” you mumbled.  
“Aren’t we supposed to be dating?” he commented.  
You cringed. Dating. As if that was all there was. “Yeah,” you sighed.  
He turned his attention to you as you stared down at your lap, fidgeting your thumbs and occasionally touching your belly. “It’s a shame I don’t remember. You’re cute.”  
A flattered spark ignited in your chest, but you pushed it back. Calling you cute didn’t mean he remembered anything.  
“Do you remember anything? Your job, your family…?”  
He shook his head. “Nothing seems familiar.”  
You let out a sigh and stood up, preparing to leave.  
“You can stay,” he called from his bed.  
You turned to look at him. “Is that for my benefit or yours?”  
He looked up and met your eyes for a moment. “Stay.”  
You hesitantly turned back and returned to the chair, wondering why he wanted you to stay.  
“Come here,” he requested, his eyes settling on a photo of the two of you from your one year anniversary.  
You complied, gently sitting on the edge of the bed. He turned the photo for you to see and you bit back a smile.  
“There’s a story behind this,” he guessed.  
“Yeah, there is…”  
“Care to tell it?”  
“It was our one year anniversary,” you explained. “We were both really busy with work. I had a ton of reports to file and you were preparing for a mission. Everyone else had offered us congratulations but you hadn’t said a word, so I assumed you forgot. I tried not to get upset, because we were so busy, and it’s hard to hold a relationship in this kind of job.” You offered him a sad smile before continuing. “But you didn’t forget. You had done all of your mission preparations early so you could plan a romantic surprise for me. You borrowed one of the spare rooms in the Tower and set up a table with candles and roses and you cooked me dinner. You even convinced Fury to let me get off early so we could spend the entire evening together.”  
He simply stared at you as you looked down at your lap. He reached out a hand, gently caressing your cheek. Your head shot up in surprise as he cupped your face.  
“That sounds really familiar,” he whispered. “Come closer.”  
You softly scooted closer, unsure of how close he wanted you to get. He leaned forward, his hand still on your cheek. His breath ghosted over your lips as his nose brushed against yours. Before you could ask what he was doing, his lips crashed against yours, melding together perfectly. You melted against him, unable to stop yourself. You’d missed this so much.  
When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead on yours and gazed into your eyes. “I remember you,” he whispered.  
“What?” you gasped, staring up at him.  
“I remember you,” he repeated, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in for another kiss.

“You’re pregnant?” he asked as you lay beside him. You snuggled into his side, telling him stories of your lives together and trying to jog his memory.  
You nodded with a soft smile, nibbling your lower lip.  
“And it’s mine?” he asked.  
“Of course it’s yours,” you replied with a slight giggle.  
His lips pressed against your forehead as he pulled you closer.  
The rest of the team came by to offer you congratulations, both for him regaining his memory and for the addition to your family.

And as soon as Clint and Natasha were out of the infirmary, the entire team threw you a baby shower.


	23. Let's Fall in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get pregnant at a high school camp

**Let’s Fall in Love**  
Request for Grimm Grassi (Guest)  
A/N: Kind of a long note here, sorry. So I guess this one didn’t have a plot so I had to make it up. I Googled “one shot story plots” and on the same website I’ve gotten my “three elements” ideas from, I got “It’s your character’s first day at a new school. He or she wants to get a fresh start, but in his or her homeroom, he or she encounters a kid from summer camp. So I kinda went Secret Life of the American Teenager with it.

 

A dreadful sigh escaped your lungs as you shuffled along the pavement that lead to the steps which led to the double doors that separated the school from the rest of the world. You desperately wanted to turn and run, but your older brother Tony was watching your every move from his car parked along the curb. Taking a deep breath and steeling yourself, you gripped the leather strap of your messenger bag and marched up the stairs. You yanked open the double doors with newfound- and feigned- determination, turning your head to find the main office. Finding it on the right, you sauntered inside and stood before the desk, waiting for the receptionist to notice you.  
“Can I help you?” she asked sweetly.  
“(y/n) Stark,” you introduced. “I’m new.”  
Her face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. “Oh, yes! We’ve been expecting you. Let me just print out your schedule and see what your homeroom is.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard, typing in your information. Within seconds, the printer whirred to life and began spitting out paper regarding your schedule.  
“Here you are,” she said, handing you the page. “Your homeroom is with Mr. Collins. Take a right out of the office, go down the hallway, and it’s the third door on the left.”  
You nodded and mumbled a “thank you” before turning around and following her directions. Counting the doors, you saw that the third door was decorated with a sign that stated “Mr. Collins.” You hesitantly grasped the handle and pulled it open, gulping when all eyes turned to you.  
“You must be (y/n) Stark,” he greeted.  
“Yes, sir,” you replied softly.  
“It seems the only empty seat is next to Clint Barton,” he stated, gesturing to the center of the room. You nodded and weaved between the desks to make your way to the empty one. Clint Barton? You thought. Why did that name sound so familiar?  
You sat down and felt eyes staring into you. Turning your head and preparing a witty retort, you stopped in your tracks when you gazed into a very familiar pair of blue eyes. The owner of said eyes smirked at you, recognizing you and knowing that you recognized him. Realization flooded through you as you gazed into those eyes, and you weren’t sure if you were going to throw up or pass out.

It turned out that you had nearly every class with the man. The only available desk in every classroom seemed to be next to, behind, or in front of him, so you had no escape. He tried to talk to you, distract you, get you to admit that you remembered him. You hid behind your hair and sunk deeper into your chair, taking down notes or doodling. Anything to avoid talking to him.  
When the bell rang for lunch, he followed you down the hall like a very annoying lost puppy. You found your locker with some difficulty, though he was more than happy to help. You resisted the urge to slam your forehead against the harsh metal as he grinned at you, waiting to catch you off guard. When you offered no response but glaring daggers, his expression turned to confusion.  
“Why do you hate me all of a sudden?” he asked, genuinely confused. “I thought we got along great at summer-”  
“Do not bring that up,” you replied with more venom in your voice than necessary. “It’s one of my worst memories so I don’t care what you have to say about it. Now, I’m starving, so if you’ll excuse me…”  
Before he could reply, you began walking away.

He spent the rest of the day trying to get your attention, but he only shared classes with you before lunch. He could only see you in the hall between classes, but you were quick to get lost in the crowd so you could avoid him.  
As you made your way to math, some redheaded girl stopped in your way.  
“Excuse me?” you said awkwardly, trying to get around her.  
“I’m a friend of Clint’s,” she explained with a bored expression. “He’s really upset that some pretty new girl is avoiding him. What happened?”  
You ignored the fact that he thought you were pretty. “It’s between me and him – er, it was. It’s nothing now.”  
“Then why are you holding onto it? He says you were great friends during summer camp.”  
You visibly cringed. “Yeah, I bet he had a great time at summer camp. He didn’t have to deal with the aftermath.”  
Her brow raised and you realized you’d said too much.  
“Are you pre-”  
“I have to go,” you stated quickly, pushing past her to get down the hall.

You waited on the steps of the school, half an hour after last period had ended. Your brother Tony had promised to pick you up, but he was late. All you wanted to do was go home.  
As you sat there with nothing but your thoughts, you recalled the events of the day. You knew the redhead knew why you were avoiding Clint, but you had no idea if she told him. Tears welled in your eyes as you looked down at your mostly flat abdomen. A couple more months and it wouldn’t be flat anymore. The only person that knew was Tony, and you had made him promise not to tell your parents.  
Footsteps sounded beside you and you stiffened as the person sat down. “Hey, what’s wrong?”  
Of course it was Clint. It couldn’t be some innocent bystander. It had to be him.  
You angrily wiped your eyes, cursing yourself as you forgot you were wearing makeup and had just smudged it all over. “It’s nothing.”  
“Natasha said she knows,” he stated. “The redheaded girl is Natasha. Said it was your business so she couldn’t tell me.”  
You felt a little respect for the girl but remained quiet.  
“Please?” he asked softly. “I truly thought we had a good time at summer camp. Why do you hate me now?”  
You looked down at the pavement, salty wet lines on your cheeks. “Do you remember the last night of summer camp, when we thought we’d never see each other again?”  
He nodded. “Of course I do. It was an amazing night.”  
“We… should have been more careful…”  
He was quiet for a moment, taking in your words. His eyes widened and he let out a soft “Oh…”  
You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself. Suddenly another pair of arms wrapped around you, pulling you against a warm chest.  
“Let me be there,” he whispered with a pleading tone. “I know we’re young, but I’ll be eighteen soon. We’re both juniors. We can figure this out.”  
“You… You want to be involved?” you asked, looking up at him in surprise. “You just found out I’m pregnant with your child and you don’t want to run?”  
He shook his head, looking back at you. “I want to be there. I want to help. I could never let you go through this alone.”  
Your chest was warmed with awe as you looked into his eyes. You nodded slowly, accepting his offer. He leaned forward, his eyes sliding closed. The familiarity sent a different warmth through you as you followed his lead, your lips meeting in the middle.  
A honk sounded in the distance, signaling that your ride had arrived, but you were too wrapped up in Clint’s arms to care.


	24. Cradle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has a surprise for you.

**Cradle**  
Request for Rosetta2218  
A/N: I stole this plot from online too. “Your character suspects her husband is having an affair and decides to spy on him. What she discovers is not what she was expecting…”

 

Your fingers trembled as you stared down at the plastic stick in your hand. Two blue lines appeared on the small digital screen, and your eyes glanced back to the key on the box to verify their meaning. One line, not pregnant. Two lines…  
A strangled gasp escaped your lips as your knees gave out and you crumbled to the floor. The stick fell from your shaking hands as you leaned against the wall and brought your knees up to your chest. You were pregnant.  
What the hell were you going to do? You and Clint had never talked about having children. You were terrified of bringing a child into the world with Clint in his current line of work. He was always away on dangerous missions and, despite his promises and the promises of his fellow agents, you could never guarantee that he would come home. Not to mention all of the enemies constantly attacking agents on their way to getting into SHIELD…  
You held your head in your hands, your breath coming out in heavy pants. How were you going to tell Clint? You weren’t ready…  
You heard the front door open and close and the familiar sounds of Clint’s boots thudding against the carpet. You stood quickly and stuffed the stick back into the box, shoving it into the trashcan beneath dryer lint and used tissues. You only hoped he wouldn’t see it.  
You opened the bathroom door and plastered on a smile as Clint walked down the hallway. He seemed tired from his week-long mission. You mused it must have been stressful and physically tolling. You followed him into the bedroom where he collapsed onto the bed, too tired to even take off his boots. He always took off his boots.  
You sat beside him and gently rubbed at his shoulders. He smiled and leaned against your chest, his heavy eyes drooping as he hung one leg off the edge of the bed.  
You stared off into space as he dozed off in your arms. You wrapped them around his chest and rested your head on his, letting out a sigh as you wondered what you were going to do about your new predicament.

The next morning, you awoke early to get to work. A can of Ginger Ale and a package of Saltine crackers helped you bite back a round of morning sickness as you got ready to go. The nausea had been eating at you for a couple of weeks but so far it only lasted a few hours in the morning. You quickly kissed a still-sleeping Clint goodbye before rushing out the door.  
Clint awoke a few hours later, groggy and stiff. All of his muscles ached from the mission as he slowly rose from the bed. He stretched in every direction he possibly could as he padded down the hall to the bathroom.  
Having done his business, he moved in front of the sink to wash his hands. In the midst of doing so, he elbowed your face wash off the counter, knocking it into the trash can. Letting out a soft sigh at his clumsiness, he dried his hands and bent down to rummage through the bin for your face wash. Thankfully it only contained dryer lint and tissues instead of something less pleasant to stick your hand into.  
He proudly produced the bottle of face wash but uncovered something that demanded inquiry. He reached back in and wrapped his calloused fingers around the small, thin cardboard box, eyebrow rising at the title. He shook it to discover that the product was inside, leading him to pop the top and tip the box over so that the plastic stick fell into his hand. He looked at the screen, figuring that it must be used since there’d be no point in throwing away a brand new test. His eyes widened and he stumbled back against the wall as two blue lines glared back at him from the small digital screen.  
You were pregnant… Why hadn’t you told him?

Over the next few weeks, Clint became distant. He was hardly ever home and when he was, he was quiet and tired. He didn’t talk much and it seemed like he didn’t have time for you anymore.  
You began to worry. Maybe you’d held onto your news too long without telling him, but it worried you, and his new attitude didn’t make it any easier. You confided in Natasha, since she was almost always his mission partner. You assumed Clint had been taking extra SHIELD jobs, but the redhead swore that he hardly had any missions lately. In fact, he had requested time off.  
You racked your brain trying to figure out why he would request time off if not to spend it with you. You immediately thought the worst. Was there a girl? Was some long and lean brunette sweeping him off his feet and dragging him away from you? Was he leaving you?  
You were currently pacing back and forth across your kitchen. He couldn’t leave you now. You were carrying his child. Didn’t he care? Oh, yeah. He didn’t know. Damn. Maybe you should tell him. Would that bring him back? But if there was another woman, did you really want him back? Could you handle spending your life with a man who wasn’t spending his life with you?  
Tears streamed down your face as you sunk down into a chair at the kitchen table. You were losing your husband to some trollop and there was nothing you could do but take care of the baby.  
You let out a soft sob just before the front door opened. You quickly wiped your eyes, but he came in too soon for you to walk away like nothing had happened.  
“Baby?” he greeted, concern lacing his voice. “What’s wrong?”  
That was the most he’d spoken to you in weeks and you broke down. You folded your arms on the table and buried your face into them, sobs shaking your body and tears pooling on the sleeves of your shirt. He immediately knelt down beside you, rubbing a hand up and down your back. Your first instinct was to flinch away. You didn’t want to be comforted by a cheater.  
He felt your body tense and he removed his hand, hurt and confusion layering over the exhaustion in his eyes. “Honey, what is it? Talk to me.”  
“Wh-why don’t you lo-love me anymo-more?” you stuttered out before you could stop yourself. You hadn’t planned on confronting him.  
“What are you talking about?” he asked with genuine confusion.  
“Am I not pretty enough?” you sniffled, still staring down into your sleeves. “I know I’m not skilled like Natasha but I thought you loved me anyway.”  
“Baby, of course I love you,” he said gently, using his foot to drag over another chair so he could sit. He returned his hand to your back, trying to coax you into his arms. “What’s this about? Did someone tell you I was leaving you?”  
You shook your head, remaining in your seat but sitting up. You took in a breath in an attempt to calm your own sobs, dropping your arms to your sides. “You haven’t been around… For weeks now you’ve been distant. I thought you just got more missions but Natasha told me you requested time off… Why would you take time off and not tell me? I tried not to accuse or worry but you’re never home and when you are home you don’t talk to me or hardly look at me and I just… I didn’t know what to think. So I put it all together. There must be another woman.”  
He simply stared at you while you ranted. He let out a sigh of relief that your breakdown had simply been emotions on a rampage and not something serious. He reached out and took your hands in his, tightening his grip when you tried to pull away. “Can I show you why I requested so much time off? I think you’ll really like it.”  
How could you possibly like seeing proof of his infidelity? He had yet to deny the story you’d formed in your mind, so who was to say he wasn’t cheating?  
When you shook your head, he frowned.  
“Please, babe?” he asked. “Just let me show you why I’ve been so busy and I promise it will fix everything.”  
You loved him. You really did. So you nodded despite the pit twisting and turning in your stomach. You let him pull you up from the chair, and you even let him keep a hold on one of your hands as he led you out of the apartment.

“Why are we at Stark Tower?” you asked tiredly. Emotional breakdowns were exhausting. You had no interest in dealing with the rich playboy. He probably helped your husband cheat.  
“Just trust me,” he replied with a pleading tone. You couldn’t help but stare at him. He rarely used his desperate voice. He was really serious about whatever he was showing you.  
You let him lead you to one of the many labs in the Tower. “Tony’s been letting me use one of the labs,” he explained as he opened the door. “This is where I’ve been every minute I haven’t been home.”  
You braced yourself to come face-to-face with proof of Clint’s affair, but instead it looked like any normal lab. There seemed to be an excessive amount of wood, given that Tony usually worked with metals and Bruce with substances. Some large object was cloaked under a pale blue sheet, causing you to raise a brow.  
Clint saw your interest and grinned. He led you over to the unidentified object and told you to close your eyes. When you shot him a skeptical glance, he returned it with a pleading stare. Letting out a sigh, you lifted your hands to cover your face. You could hear the rustling of the sheet being moved and then Clint’s warm hand on your lower back, guiding you closer to the mystery.  
“You can look now,” he whispered, his hands resting on your hips. You lowered your hands and let out a gasp at the sight before you. A large wooden crib sat on a platform in the center of the lab. The entire piece was handcrafted, with elegant pillars making up the walls and artistic designs decorating the ends. You walked around it to take it all in, your jaw dropped in amazement as tears welled up in your eyes. Arrows were carved into one end to represent Clint while your favorite symbol was carved into the other.  
“I figured we could paint it after we find out the baby’s gender,” he stated. “Maybe we could even add their name to it.”  
“Clint…” you breathed, unsure of how to respond. “Clint, it’s incredible. I can’t believe you… You made this?”  
“Every piece by hand,” he smiled. He moved to stand before you, his hands gently resting on your belly. “It’s grueling work but it’ll be worth it when my little man or baby girl gets to see it.”  
You threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. You let out a sniffle as your teary eyes stained his shirt. He chuckled softly, one hand holding the small of your back while the other cradled the back of your head.  
“I’m sorry I thought you were cheating,” you whispered, ashamed of your mind’s ideas.  
He pressed a kiss to your head. “You’re stressed. You’re pregnant. It’s okay. Just know that I could never even pretend to love another woman as much as I love you.”  
He pulled away and knelt down so he was face-to-face with your belly. He gently kissed your belly button, causing you to giggle. “The only person I’ll ever love as much as you is this baby.”  
You cupped his face in your hands and bent down, angling his head so you could capture his lips.


	25. Baby Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to "My Father's Daughter"

**Baby Shower**  
Request for DarkMistressAlice  
A/N: Sequel to “My Father’s Daughter”  
So I had stopped giving the reader a name, but “My Father’s Daughter” was written before I decided that so I kinda have to keep the name in.

It had been a year since the Avengers had defeated your father and Uncle Thor had taken him back to Asgard. You kept communication open with the blond, making sure your father was okay. You didn’t like that he was locked in the dungeons. You had always feared them as a child. But whenever you thought about him, you remembered the cold look in his eyes when he realized your feelings for Clint, and that stab in the heart wouldn’t just go away.

You sat on your bed and rubbed your baby bump. You had spent the last three hours unpacking and organizing your new apartment, and that was a lot on a four-month pregnant body. You smiled up at your favorite archer as he sat beside you on your king-sized bed, resting a hand on your lower back. You leaned into his side with a tired sigh, nuzzling your head into his shoulder.  
“We’re finally unpacked,” you breathed.  
“Totally unpacked,” he replied with a nod, squeezing you into his side. You smiled up at him, tilting your head back against his shoulder. He took the hint and leaned his head down, lazily capturing your lips. You hummed softly against his mouth, letting out a contented sigh when he pulled away.  
“Have you heard from Thor?” he asked gently, knowing it was a sore subject.  
You shook your head, standing up. “I would have told you if I had.”  
You made your way to the kitchen, thinking about the last time you’d seen your uncle. He had come to Earth with concern for his mortal girlfriend. You worried for her as well when you learned that she’d contracted the Aether. He made sure to visit you before he went back to Asgard to save Jane.  
“Sorry, babe,” Clint said, following you. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Are you hungry? I can make something.”  
“Sandwich,” you replied simply, standing with your back to the counter. You rested your hands on the countertop for leverage, hoisting yourself up so you could sit.  
He nodded and began rummaging through the kitchen for all your favorite fixings. You smiled softly. You loved that he knew all of your food preferences. A few had changed, of course, thanks to the baby in your belly. But your favorite sandwich remained the same.  
“I haven’t talked to him since that time he came to Midgard to save Jane,” you explained, swinging your legs slightly.  
He nodded in understanding, cutting your sandwich in half before handing it to you. You smiled in thanks before sinking your teeth into the creation with delight. You hummed softly, not realizing how hungry you were until you ate.  
He stood in front of you, his hands resting on the counter on either side of your hips. He rested his forehead on yours, softly pecking your nose or nuzzling your neck when you were in-between bites. When you finished your lunch, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. You brought his lips down to yours, causing him to wrap his arms around your neck. A thud came from the living room and you pulled away in surprise and concern. Relief flooded you when the familiar face of your father and uncle came into view.  
“Father? Uncle?” you greeted with confusion. “What are you doing here?”  
“Am I not allowed to visit my daughter?” Loki teased, eyeing Clint warily.  
“No warning?” you asked, looking directly at Thor. He chuckled in reply.  
“It took a lot of magic and a lot of trickery to get out of Asgard unnoticed,” the blond stated. “Your father was a great help. I had no time to warn you. We were on the run.”  
“On the run?” you replied, turning to look at your dad. “So you’re still locked up?”  
Loki nodded sadly. “I’m sorry, Ali. Odin wants me in chains for eternity.”  
You absent-mindedly rubbed your belly, a thinking habit you developed. Loki and Thor shared a look before looking back at you.  
“Darling, is there a reason you keep touching your stomach?” the raven-haired god asked.  
You looked at Clint with a small smile, turning back to the other two. “I’m pregnant.”  
Loki stared at you while Thor’s lips broke into a grin.  
“We must celebrate!” the blond exclaimed.  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” your father asked.  
“When did I have time?” you countered. “You’ve been in prison and Uncle has been training to become King. I haven’t seen or spoken to either of you since it happened.”  
He stepped forward and wrapped you in a hug. “This is wonderful news, Ali.”  
“Do you know the sex?” Thor inquired.  
“One boy, one girl,” you replied.  
“Twins?” Loki exclaimed. You let out a giggle.  
“Have you thought of names?” Thor asked.  
“I like Dean for the boy,” you stated.  
“I like Samantha,” Clint replied.  
“Mortal names,” Loki mused. You rolled your eyes.  
“I live like a mortal now,” you reminded. “Except for the occasional prank, of course.”  
“We must celebrate,” Thor repeated. “Mortals throw parties for new babies, do they not?”  
You nodded. “Girl friends of the pregnant girl usually get together and arrange a baby shower.”  
“Why only females?” Loki asked.  
You shrugged. “It’s tradition. Girls only. But seeing as I don’t have any girl friends on Midgard…”  
Thor tilted his head in confusion.  
“The Avengers aren’t really comfortable yet,” Clint explained with a sigh.  
Loki’s brows furrowed in concern. He didn’t like that those pathetic Avengers didn’t like his daughter.  
“We will throw a party, then,” Thor said. “What do we need?”  
“Cake, presents, games…” Clint listed.  
“You guys don’t have to throw me a party,” you replied. “We can just buy a cake and hang out.”

And that was what you did. You stayed in the apartment with your father and uncle while Clint ran to the store to buy a baby shower cake. You spent the rest of the day catching up with your family and fantasizing about your future children.


	26. You Stole My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHIELD catches you and offers you a spot an agent

**You Stole My Heart**  
Request for Cat Girl (Guest)  
A/N: Co-written by Blossom.

The handcuffs bound around your wrists were digging in, rubbing at the skin there. You were tightly tied to the chair in the van, with S.H.I.E.L.D agent Maria Hill glaring you down. Damn. Caught.  
You were extremely irritated; as a thief, you had always been careful to cover your tracks wherever you went, but forgetting this time had been an awful mistake. Besides, you were certain maybe being distracted by the very handsome archer standing meters away from you was what gave S.H.I.E.L.D the opportunity to grab you.

_You grinned to yourself as you reached slowly into your pocket, receiving the memory stick that lay there. You slipped it into the slot, beginning to transfer the bank details from the computer onto the small stick.  
"Freeze! Hands up and step away from that computer!" a male voice yelled at you.  
You pulled up your mask, covering your face where it was sliding and tightened your hood, looking at the man.  
It was none other than Clint Barton – Hawkeye.  
You had to admit, Clint was attractive, despite the arrow he had threateningly aimed towards you. His blue eyes stared you down, and you felt your heart melt. You couldn't show your affection though; you had to show him you didn't care he had caught you.  
"Well I never! The Hawkeye in my presence. I don't know whether to bow to you or pull a Loki and make you bow to me," you laughed. Clint grimaced.  
"It's no time for jokes," he snapped.  
"I'll do what I please," you retorted, looking at your long nails.  
"S.H.I.E.L.D will be here soon. Do you really think you’ll be able to 'do what you please' then?" he countered, tilting his head to the side with a small smile. "We've finally found you. After a long line of theft, it's all lead to you. Might you tell me your name?" He smiled sarcastically.  
"In your dreams."_

"Don't try and escape. You’re not going anywhere," Maria said sharply from the chair opposite you. She had seen you fiddling with your handcuffs.  
"Come on, Maria, be a sport and let me go. I won't do it again," you whined dramatically.  
"Nope. How can we trust you? And if this happens again, we will probably assume it's you, especially if the thief is wearing a mask. Which, just for the record, I'd like you to remove once we're there," she stated. You let out a groan.  
This was going to be a lot worse than you expected.

When you got to the headquarters, Nick Fury insisted on removing your mask. After he had scanned your face, he put the scan on his computer and tapped the keys a few times before your criminal record popped up.  
"(Y/N) (L/N)," Fury said, looking at the group which consisted of you, Clint, Maria, Natasha and a few other agents.  
"Oh please, Fury, not so formal. Call me (codename)," you smiled sweetly.  
"I call you what I want. As I was saying, Miss (L/N)," Fury emphasized with a glare, "this isn't the first time you've been caught. Now I can do this the easy way or the hard way."  
You tilted your head. "Go on..." You bit your lip.  
"You can either rot in a prison cell for the rest of your life, or become a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. It's your call," Fury shrugged.  
"I'm hoping prison cell," Natasha tried to mutter quietly, but you heard and shot her a death glare.  
"I'll pick agent," you rushed, although you had thought the prison cell sounded quite a fair option.  
"Well then, you'll need a coach," he stated, looking at Natasha and Clint. Natasha madly shook her head.  
"Clint, train her up a bit would you? She's clearly an amateur if she can't cover her tracks," Fury said firmly before turning to leave. He froze in the doorway.  
"Welcome to the team... Agent (L/N)."  
"(Codename)!" you yelled after him, annoyed.

“Are you ready, (codename)?” Clint asked teasingly.  
“Yes, I am, Hawkeye,” you countered with a snarl. You hated your decision already. Having to be trained by a SHIELD agent and Avenger? It was really stupid of you to get caught.  
He showed you how to fire a gun, though you failed and hit the wall the first few tries. You reasoned that you never had to use a weapon as a thief – you just snuck in and stole stuff. He chuckled at your excuses and continued to correct how you were holding and firing the gun.  
You worked on hand-to-hand combat, which you were much better at. You’d gotten in a few good swings and managed to dodge all of his. Well, all except one. He managed to knock you pretty good in the head, causing you to fall to your knees in surprise. When you didn’t immediately return to the fight, he rushed to your side, worried that you were actually hurt. You tried to stand but found that you were dizzy. He sat you down on the bench and handed you a water bottle, calling a time-out.  
“You feeling alright?” he asked, a layer of genuine concern in his voice.  
“Fine,” you ground out, biting back tears. You’d never been in a fight. You’d never gotten caught. You’d never had to choose between life in a prison cell or being turned into an assassin. Nothing was working out today.  
“Hey, what is it?” he asked, his voice softer and more sincere.  
“Tell me something,” you said, changing the subject. “Fury called me an amateur because I got caught. Why would he want me working for SHIELD then?”  
He shrugged. “Because we can train you to be better.”  
“No one wants me here,” you blurted out. That had never bothered you before, but now… “I can tell. Fury thinks it’s funny that he caught me. Maria doesn’t want to go through the trouble of catching me again. Natasha acts like I’m some kind of disease. What’s the point of training me and turning me into an agent if I’ll still be treated like the enemy?”  
He was quiet after your rant, thinking on your words. “You never said what I think of you.”  
“What?” you asked, caught off guard. You turned to look at him.  
“You told me what you think Fury, Maria, and Nat think, but not what I think. How do you think I feel about you being here?”  
You shrugged, looking down at your lap. The hopeless romantic that longed for attention inside you hoped that he wanted you here, that maybe this training would blossom into something more. But the realistic street criminal who had to live her entire life alone reasoned that Clint was only training you so Fury wouldn’t get mad. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what you think?”  
A rough hand gently grasped your chin, keeping your gaze on him. “I initially thought that we captured a thief. But when I looked into her eyes, her beautiful, sparkly (e/c) eyes, I realized that we rescued a lonely girl who had no home to return to. If we didn’t take her, she’d be left on the streets with no one to turn to. I think that we just recruited the most beautiful, strong, independent woman I’ve ever met, and I think that I’m the luckiest agent in the world to be the one to train her.”  
You stared up at him with your mouth agape. No one had ever expressed such sincere, kindhearted words to you. “Is that really what you think?”  
He nodded. “Do you want to know what else?”  
You nodded as he leaned in closer, your noses brushing together.  
“I really want to kiss her,” he whispered before closing the gap and claiming your lips. Sparks ignited inside your head and your heart thudded in your chest. Your hands rested on either side of his neck as his hand gently cupped your face. Your lips melded together like perfect jigsaw pieces, pausing for air every now and then but never pulling away very far for very long.  
When you finally pulled back with a gasp, you grinned up at the archer. “Thank you.”  
“What for?” he asked, brushing a strand of (h/c) hair from your eyes.  
“For giving me a second chance,” you replied, scooting forward to rest your head on his chest. Training was forgotten as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.


	27. The Dark Inside of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint sees your Dark Side

**The Dark Inside of Me**  
Request for Pinkamena and Tails doll  
A/N: Mostly written by Blossom, edited by me.

 

You sat against the wall, bringing your knees to your chest and crying into your hands.  
Why?  
You had the power to control the night; make it go by faster or slower, make the moon full or crescent, and you could also mess with the stars. It sounds great, but there was a disadvantage. Every night, a different side of you came out. Compared to your sweet and kind personality, this other side was fiery, rude, and had a very short temper. It would always try and rule you over, to stay out when the day came so it could cause chaos throughout the city. You always managed to hide it away, but it was beginning to break out more and more often.  
It was kind of like how Bruce had the Hulk, only yours was ten times worse.  
"(Y/N)?" a familiar voice said. You looked up, your eyes falling on Clint Barton, your best friend from when you were in high school.  
"Clint?" you gasped, getting up and hugging him. "It's been years!"  
"I know. Why were you crying?" he asked.  
"Oh... Nothing, I'm fine," you smiled. Clint gave you a look that said 'don't lie to me'.  
"Just... It's hard to explain. I'd have to show you," you sighed.  
"Show me then," he said simply, taking your hand  
"I can't! It only works at night. And it's too dangerous," you whispered.  
Images of your Side coming out flashed through your mind, along with images of the Side hurting Clint. You couldn't bear it. Clint let out a soft sigh, shaking his head with a smile.  
"You've always been a careful one. Come on. Do you want to grab a drink and catch up?" he asked.  
You giggled. "Sounds great."

You arrived at a cafe and Clint led you in. The cafe was on the top floor, which gave it a perfect view of the New York skyline.  
Clint found a table beside the window far away from the few other people there. He then went off to order.  
You picked at your nails, looking over the skyline. One day, you thought, you might end up accidentally destroying it.  
Your thoughts were interrupted by Clint placing a (F/drink),(F/sandwich) and (F/muffin) on the table in front of you.  
"Thanks. Glad to see you still remember," you smiled warmly. Clint chuckled.  
"So what have you been up to now that you’re in New York?" you asked, biting the sandwich.  
"I'm an Avenger and level seven S.H.I.E.L.D agent" he replied simply. You tilted your head.  
"In English please?" you laughed.  
"Oh, sorry. The Avengers is like, you know, Earth's mightiest heroes put together type thing. And the S.H.I.E.L.D thing, it’s a government agency. I'm an assassin and archer," he said. You nodded.  
"You were always good at archery."  
"I know. What about you?" he asked.  
"I don't really know what I'm going to do. I just got here, and I don't have a job yet, Hell I barely have a house. I rent a small room in my sister's friend’s apartment," you replied, looking up and meeting his eyes.  
"Oh. I'm sure Tony would happily welcome you at the Stark tower. He seems to have far too many spare rooms he never uses," Clint shrugged.  
"Really?" Your face lit up.  
"Yep," he smiled.  
"Thanks. That would be amazing," you smiled sincerely before looking at your watch.  
7:15 p.m.  
"Clint, I really have to go, thanks for the food though," you rushed, beginning to gather your bags and coat.  
"But what about the room?” he asked. “And will I see you again?" He stood, scraping his chair back and standing up.  
"I'll meet you at this Tower place... Uh... Tomorrow morning, just not tonight," you gasped before running down the stairs and out of the cafe. Unbeknownst to you, Clint was hot on your trail.  
You continued to run for what felt like hours until you got to the park on the edge of the city, checking the time.  
7:59 p.m. And it was getting dark.  
You began to feel yourself changing. Your eyes glowed red as your entire body began feeling like it was burning. You felt your personality switch to the dark side. The sky, which had been a fading blue, was now pitch black. Clint stood, watching wide eyed from a distance as your transformation finally completed.  
"(Y/N)?" he whispered.  
You turned.  
"Who do you mean? There's nobody here called (Y/N). You're obviously drunk," your Side growled, voice deeper than usual.  
"You're (Y/N). Now I understand why you were in a rush to leave," he replied..  
"I'm never in a rush, boy. The night moves too slowly for me to rush," you grinned darkly.  
"What are you trying to say?" he asked cautiously, staying in his spot.  
"I'm going to make the night last forever; put the world in eternal darkness. Just you wait, boy," you laughed, holding your hands to the sky. Clint grabbed your arms, wrestling them back down.  
"No! Please, try and remember! I'm Clint Barton, I was your best friend," he hesitated. "We even dated at one point..."  
"Nonsense, you fool! I’m independent. I don’t need you!" you yelled.  
"No! You always feel insecure on your own, I know that because you told me! Your hair is normally (h/c), and your eyes are (e/c), not red!" Clint yelled back. You struggled in his grasp, but he wasn't letting go.  
"You love (f/food) and (f/animal), and the color (f/c)! You were born on (birthday). Please try to remember!" he continued.  
"None of that is true, now get off me before I give you a death sentence!" you shouted, freeing yourself from his hold.  
"Maybe this will help," he whispered He grabbed your shoulders, crashing his lips against yours. You struggled at first but eventually gave in, melting into the kiss and placing your hands on Clint's chest. Your hair began to fade back into its normal shade, and eyes flashed back to (e/c). The sky became a bit brighter, but still dull as it was night. Clint pulled back for air, leaning his forehead against yours.  
"Now do you remember?" he smiled. You giggled.

Later that night, Clint took you back to the apartment to get your clothes, laptop, phone and other personal belongings. He then took you to the Tower and introduced you to everyone, who all gladly welcomed you. Steve had shaken your hand like a gentleman, Bruce had given you a nod, Tony began to flirt with you (which made Clint tighten his grip around your waist), Thor gave you a bone-crushing hug and Natasha, who had also been your friend in high school, had been so happy to see you again that she had actually started crying.  
Nick Fury had been informed of you, and he came to visit, offering you not only a place at S.H.I.E.L.D, but a spot in the Avengers, to embrace your powers.  
Clint then took you back to his room, where you would sleep, and put your things away. He lay on the bed, inviting you to join him. You curled up beside him, his arm acting as your pillow, his other arm draped over your waist. One of your hands rested on his chest, the other on his hip, and your legs tangled together.  
"Thank you," you smiled.  
"For what?" he chuckled, pecking your lips.  
"Helping me control myself. I don't know what I would have done without you," you said, returning his kiss.  
"I love you (Y/N)," he whispered.  
"I love you more."


	28. Doctor, Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're the doctor for the Avengers

**Doctor, Doctor**  
Request for thisdodoisflyiiing  
A/N: Mostly written by Wolf Princess Warrior, edited by me.

To say the apple didn’t fall far from the tree was an understatement for some families. For certain families, it was as if you were twins. In almost every aspect of your personality, you were just like your brother and father both of them. Howard Stark’s reputation was legendary in almost every way; with women, technology, politics, the military… you name it, Howard excelled at it. His son and your older brother Tony Stark, was just like him, and so were you. Being ten years younger than your brother did not take away from the bond you had with him, and how strangely similar you were. Howard and Maria died when you were eleven and Tony was twenty-one, so he could legally have full custody of you. He was the one who taught you basic robotics and computer programming, and it helped distract you from your grief. Since your parents’ untimely death you took to technology much like your brother and father, but it was medical sciences where you found your calling.  
Even though Tony spoiled you relentlessly with all the goodies you could ever want, it still didn’t resolve the trauma you experienced as a child, and like almost everyone else you masked it with your attitude.  
Unfortunately that sass led you to the events that were currently going on in Stark Tower.

“Watch it, (Y/N)! That stings!” hissed Tony. You put the rubbing alcohol and cotton swab on the counter. The Avengers had returned from their latest mission and everyone was lounging around the common room in the redesigned Tower. Tony was at the bar pouring himself some scotch, Thor was in a chair, Natasha and Steve were on opposite ends of the sofa, Bruce was on his way to the lab to retrieve some things, and Clint who always made you feel bubbly inside was sitting on the first few steps of the staircase. Catching your eye roll, the archer sent you a smile which you returned.  
They had managed to subdue the enemy, but not without some miscommunication, though they had managed to get away. Everyone was on edge with each other and even Cap’s calm face looked about ready to blow at any moment. But you didn’t hadn’t noticed. The six of them had landed the Quinjet and walked with stone faces.  
Giving your brother a hard stare, you replied, “Would you like JARVIS to stitch your wounds Tony? I’d be more than happy to hand you over to the AI that has no physical form or pain meds to give you.” Huffing slightly you continued to stitch up the cut on your brother’s brow. Tony shooed you away when you were done and pulled up some maps and documents from the hologram table and began to work.  
After disposing of your latex gloves you moved to your next patient. You were now a certified doctor and since the Avengers’ first gathering, you were their official private doctor. Sitting down next to Thor with a new set of gloves, you began to apply burn salve on his shoulder. “So what was it this time? Giant insects? Godzilla? Flying monkeys? Whatever it was, it must’ve been big,” you teased.  
“Not now (Y/N), we’re trying to plan out our next move,” Natasha snapped as she began to furiously type on the hologram table next to the couch. After tending to Steve’s sprained wrist, Natasha’s knee and documenting their injuries in their files in silence, it was just too much for you to take.  
“Honestly, I don’t know what’s got all your panties in a twist, but you guys need to chill. You act like the world is going to detonate unless you keep your noses buried in work. Would it kill you guys to, I don’t know, shower? The after mission smell in the air is not something that I want to take care of when it sinks into all the couch cushions, not to mention carpet. Will the world also fall into chaos if you took ten minutes to eat? I bet for the last week you were all eating those disgusting protein bars. There’s also-“  
“ENOUGH!” Tony shouted. “Please (Y/N). We’re all tired and a little frustrated at each other, because when we were in the Amazon, the wing on the Quinjet broke and I didn’t have a blowtorch or welding material, nor could I use fire since we we’re too close to our targets, and-”  
“We wouldn’t have crashed if you had used the coordinates Fury gave us in the first place Stark,” Natasha cut in.  
“QUIET!” Everyone in the room flinched at the rarely heard shriek from Steve. Taking a deep breath he turned to address you. “(Y/N) thanks for your help but we need to get back to work now.” Leaving no room for argument you darted for the elevator.  
After shutting the door to your section of the Tower, you set your med kit back in your bathroom and slipped out of your jeans and button up shirt to change into a tank top and sweats. You plopped onto your queen sized bed ready to watch some Netflix and relax.  
“Ms. Stark,” The AI spoke up. “Agent Barton wishes to see you. It appears after the Avengers returned he did not receive treatment for his injuries.”  
“Why can’t Bruce do it?” you reply bitterly, not in the mood to see anyone.  
“Doctor Banner is otherwise occupied at the moment.”  
Scoffing, you drag your feet to your door to let the sniper in.  
“Hey,” Clint greeted.  
“Hi,” you sighed, letting him in. You gestured to your bed and he nodded, moving to sit down as you retrieved your kit. On your way back, you retied your hair in a messy bun.  
“Sorry about earlier,” he said softly.  
“It’s fine,” you breathed out, setting the kit on your nightstand. Giving him a quick rundown you notice the burns on his arms and neck.  
“Anything else besides the burns?” you asked, slipping on a new pair of gloves and opening the salve.  
“Yeah, I think I bruised my ribs,” he replied.  
Without thinking and slipping into Doctor Mode, the words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Can you unzip your uniform so I can look at them?”  
Clint nodded slipping the top portion of his uniform off. After gulping softly, you applied the burn medicine on his arms and neck. You carefully watched yourself, making sure your hands didn’t linger too long on his tan skin. You didn’t notice him watching your every move. He saw the way you focused on the injuries, your eyes never leaving his body. He loved to watch you tend to injuries, with such focus and precision. It reminded him of how he prepared each new arrow he pulled out of his quiver.  
Now inspecting his midsection, it was hard for you to draw your eyes away from his lean yet toned body. There was a bruise there alright, and a pretty nasty one from the looks of it, adorned with purples, greens and yellows. Looking back at him in the eye, you decided, “Definitely bruised, and probably fractured too. I’ll get you some pain meds and an ice pack.”  
You leave the bedroom, peeling off the gloves, and grabbed said items. Returning to the archer, you sit down next to his injured side, letting him place the ice pack on the bruise. You then handed him the pain medicine and a bottle of water.  
You were about to take the bottle back from Clint, but he reached over you to set it back down on the nightstand. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks since he was still hovering over your lap. Looking up at you with his sly smirk that always makes your stomach flutter, he brought his free hand up to cup your cheek gently. Without any hesitation, you leaned in his large, warm, calloused hands and closed your eyes. After a moment, you looked up at him, (e/c) gazing into hazel.  
Neither of had time to question yourself before his lips were on yours, moving together in an unknown rhythm. Your arms were lightly wrapped around his naked shoulders and the hand that was previously cupping your cheek was now wrapped securely around your waist. Both of you were cautious of his injuries so you weren’t pressing too close together.  
When your lips finally parted, you were left panting as he rested his forehead on yours. You kept your gaze on him and your arms around his neck.  
“Do I need to remind you how to take care of bruised and cracked ribs?” you asked only half joking.  
He let out a laugh before wincing in pain. “No,” he replied. “But… How would you feel about grabbing some baby back ribs with me on Friday?”  
Letting out a laugh of your own you nodded. You shared a knowing look and a grin before your lips made contact again.


	29. Shoot Me Down, I Won't Fall

**Shoot Me Down, I Won’t Fall**  
Request for Goddess Raven Night  
A/N: Father/daughter. I swear everyone who wants father!Clint has wanted a bullied!reader.  
“The reader is extremely smart and sassy when with those that they care about. But when they are at school everyone hates them for being so smart. Because of this, they are constantly ignored and pranked. Maybe Clint comforts them after they have a really bad prank.”

You may have seemed confident in front of people like the Avengers and your father, but school was completely different. Since you were little, you had Tony Stark-level intelligence. You were a lot smarter than everyone else your age, which meant a lot of jealous people on your back. There could have been a whole individual clique for people that hated you. Hateful words and names, embarrassing pranks, rude locker vandalism… you'd seen it all. There was always somebody ready to trip you or drop your book or push you against a wall.  
You never showed any emotion, as that would only let them win. There was only one kid in your whole school that didn't ignore, judge, or bully you. Over the couple of years you’d been in high school, you’d developed a crush on your best friend, but only your father Clint knew about it. You couldn’t risk the one friendship you had in the entire school over a crush.  
All your emotions went to one place – your journal. And it was your journal that got you into trouble.

Every week, a different student got to spend first period in the office, making announcements to the student body over the intercom. The students got extra credit for helping the secretary. You’d been offered the opportunity, but you didn’t need the extra credit, and you knew that not a single soul in the building would listen if your voice came through the speakers.  
You didn’t know that today was your number one bully’s day to help out. Her name was Grizelda, and she devoted all of her free time- and class time, if you were in the same class- to tormenting you. She was the one who wrote vile messages on and inside your locker. She was the one who constantly tripped you or stole your books. When she was too busy or too likely to get caught, she used her good looks and sweet voice to convince some poor fool to do it for her. You knew who to blame, so you were less upset when some random geek came up and shoved you into the wall. It wasn’t their fault. They were just pawns.  
“ _Now for the morning announcements_ ,” Grizelda’s snooty voice came through the intercom. You could practically hear the sneer, and you knew she would hold it over you forever that she got to help in the office. The kids who had helped thought it was the best thing in the world. The kids who hadn’t helped typically didn’t care.  
“ _We have a special announcement about one (y/n) BartonM/em >,” she said. You could hear her grin as your face paled. All eyes turned to you as you sat in homeroom. You pretended not to hear it, instead doodling in your notebook.  
“ _’Everyone in school hates me, but I’ve learned to ignore them. I have a good life when I go home to the Avengers. Grizelda and her lackeys don’t matter to me. All that matters is (crush/n). He’s been my best friend for years. He would never turn on me like the rest of the student body. Deep down, I wish for something more. I wish (crush/n) saw me the way I see him. But I’ll just be happy with his friendship. I would never risk losing him completely over a silly crush.’_ ”  
Your cheeks burned as laughter filled your ears. (crush/n) was seated beside you, but you didn’t dare look at him. You couldn’t stand to know what he thought of you now.  
Moments later, Grizelda sauntered into class, a smirk on her lips. Before the teacher could send her to the principal for invasion of privacy, among other offenses, you launched at her. Reading your journal was one thing- she often stole your notes during class and read the conversations you had with (crush/n)- but reading it for the whole school to hear was the last straw.  
Your father, and the other Avengers, had been teaching you how to fight in case you ever needed it. You could dodge most attacks, so you were easily able to fend off her blind fists. You managed one good punch to her cheek before she threw you off, landing a foot to your abdomen. You coughed in response, holding your stomach.  
“Miss Barton and Miss Sims to the nurse, now!” the teacher barked. Grizelda stood with as much grace as she could, turning on her heel and sauntering out of the room. You stumbled as you tried to stand, shuffling towards the door. You didn’t notice (crush/n) watching you go._

_“What happened?” the nurse asked as she pressed an ice back to the bruise on Grizelda’s face. “Was this about the announcement?”  
You blushed as you sat on the other cot, holding your stomach gently. “Yes, ma’am.”  
The nurse applied extra pressure to Grizelda’s bruise, causing her to hiss in pain. You could swear you saw the nurse smirk in response.  
“Miss Barton, your father is on his way,” the principal told you. You nodded in reply as the nurse lifted your shirt to check your abdomen. She then handed you an ice pack as well before leaving the room.  
You sat there for about fifteen minutes before a familiar face padded into the room. Clint sat down beside you and looked you over, not bothering to ask who the other girl was.  
“Are you okay?” he asked after finding no obvious injury. You adjusted the ice pack on your belly and nodded.  
“I’m fine, Dad. I just want to go home.”  
“Go home and be with Daddy,” Grizelda teased.  
Clint narrowed his eyes and stood. “You’re the brat that’s been tormenting my daughter.”  
Grizelda rolled her eyes. “Your daughter’s a loser. Sorry to break it to you.”  
Clint turned to you. “Are you in trouble?”  
You shrugged. “One day suspension for tackling her.”  
Clint smirked. “You’ll be out the rest of the week.” With that, he left to head to the office to sign off on your suspension.  
You grinned. You knew what that meant.  
“What are you smiling at, dork?” Grizelda scoffed. You raised your hand and threw a punch straight at her nose, watching blood trickle down from her nostrils. She let out a cry of pain and the nurse came rushing in. As you turned to leave, the nurse winked at you. You let out a chuckle and waited with your father in the office._


	30. Numb

**Numb**  
Request for Jay Lark  
A/N: I know people say that depression isn’t just about being sad but I’ve never done any research on it, so I looked up symptoms and I’m basing the character off of that.  
“reader has depression and it's been hitting her hard lately and Clint notices, but doesn't know she has depression. Clint sets out to help reader and finds out about her depression and he just comforts her and it's really cute and fluffy?”

Nothing gave you pleasure quite like it used to. You used to love baking and cooking, or sitting down with a good book, or going shopping for a new spring ensemble. Clint tried to give you those things, because he had noticed your recent lack of interest and he knew how much they meant to you. Or at least, how much he thought they meant to you.  
You would feign a smile at his attempts. You would thank him for his consideration and pad softly back to your room to curl up on your bed and block out the world.  
Clint was concerned. You never blocked him out, even when he was the cause of your distress. You told him everything; you had since the day you met. You repeatedly told him how you appreciated that you could tell him anything. So your sudden decision to clamp down on your feelings and ignore the things you used to love, including him, had him very worried.  
He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even have his fallbacks of flowers and candy like when you were upset with him. You wouldn’t tell him what was wrong – you wouldn’t even admit that anything was wrong. He didn’t know how to handle it. He had tried flowers and candy at first, but you’d just let them sit lonely and unloved on your nightstand. He then tried movies, bringing a collection of your favorites to your room. You’d let him get them started, and you would try to watch, but your mind would wander and after he left the room, you’d turn off the TV. He tried cooking your favorite foods, and his concern grew when he would come into your room while you were sleeping and find an entire plate of food untouched on the bedside table. You hadn’t been eating very much lately, and he was worried about the health risks.  
You weren’t sleeping very well, either. You didn’t know that he knew. When you woke up in the middle of the night, he pretended to be asleep, not sure if you wanted him to know about your restless nights. He would continue feigning slumber as you slipped out of bed and padded softly down the hall, usually towards the bathroom or the kitchen. He would then sit up and let out a sigh, wishing you would talk to him about whatever was bothering you. He was your boyfriend… You were supposed to talk about things…

He was going to try and sleep after you slipped out of the room when he heard soft sniffles coming from the living room. He listened for a minute and his heart broke. He knew that sound.  
He slid out of bed and sauntered out of the room, heading down the hall. He could see you from the hallway, curled up on the couch, clutching a pillow. He could see the sobs shaking your body, and he knew you were trying to keep it down so he wouldn’t hear. He let out a soft sigh and knelt before you, placing a hand on your arm.  
You jumped in surprise and lifted your face from the pillow, looking at him with wide eyes. You’d been caught.  
Sadness and concern swirled in his eyes as he stared at you. “Babe, what’s wrong? Please… talk to me.”  
You could hear the desperation in his voice and sat up. You didn’t need to take him down with you. It was time to come clean. You made room for him on the couch and he sat beside you, placing a hand on your waist. You didn’t feel much anymore, but you couldn’t deny that you’d missed his arms around you. You hesitantly snuggled against his side, and he was delighted at the fact that you were responding.  
“I’ve been… depressed…”  
He looked at you, placing a gentle hand on your head. “Clinically depressed?”  
You nodded. “I haven’t gone to a doctor or anything… But I’ve felt it for the past few months…”  
“Past few months?” he repeated. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
You sighed softly, knowing it hurt him to know you’d been hiding it. “The thing about depression is… it makes you think things… bad things… I didn’t know how you’d respond. Part of me knew that you would be sweet and supportive… but the depression said, ‘what if he leaves? What if he doesn’t want to be with someone so emotionally unstable? What if he decides he doesn’t love me anymore?’” Your voice broke as you trailed off, burying your face in his chest.  
He held you close and rested his head on yours. “I don’t know how to convince you, but I can promise you that I would never think any of those things. I would never dream of leaving you. I love you, (y/n). I love everything about you. If you have a problem, I want to fix it, so you don’t hurt anymore. I will always love you.”  
You looked up at him with teary eyes. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’re not mad?” you asked in a small voice.  
He kissed you gently. “Of course not. But I still want to help. What can I do?”  
You shrugged and looked at your lap.  
He thought for a moment. “I think you should see a doctor, before it gets worse. Or maybe a therapist? Depression isn’t something you should have to do on your own. A doctor can help, and he can tell me how I can help.”  
You nodded slowly. The idea terrified you… but if Clint was by your side, you could handle it. You curled into his chest and he pulled you onto his lap, holding you close. He lied down, resting his head on the arm of the couch, letting you lie on his chest.  
“I love you,” he whispered against your head.  
“I love you too,” you responded tiredly, drifting off into the best sleep you’d had in months.


	31. My Son

**My Son**  
Request for Serena Valdez  
A/N: The rest of the request is included, just not in the description. They don’t get completely drunk but they do drink.  
“Can you write a Hawkeye one. Reader is at a party with her friends and gets drunk and so does clint. And then they sleep together then she finds out she is pregnant with his baby.” 

You smiled as you placed a plate of breakfast in front of your four-year-old son. He immediately picked up a piece of lightly toasted bread slathered in peanut butter and stuffed half of it into his mouth. He looked up at you with sparkling eyes as he chewed as fast as he could, the peanut butter sticking everywhere inside his mouth.  
“Good toast?” you asked, plating up the eggs you’d cooked for yourself.  
“Mmm,” he murmured around the bread, finally swallowing it and reaching for his cup of chocolate milk.  
“We’ve got to go shopping after breakfast,” you commented, sitting beside him at the table. “You wanna pick out some new cereal?”  
“Yeah!” he cried happily, picking up the half banana you’d put on his plate. He ate quickly, and you smiled at his current enjoyment. He went through periods where he didn’t want to eat anything you offered him, so you were glad that that phase was temporarily over and that he was ready to eat a variety again.  
When you were both done eating, you got (son/n) dressed in a button-down shirt, jeans, and Converse. You quickly dressed in a tank top, jeans, and ankle-high boots and led (s/n) outside to your car. 

As soon as you entered the store, what you saw made you stop cold. The tabloids in the newsstand by the front door never bothered you, with their articles about who slept with whom, who was married, and who was divorced, but the front page of almost every magazine had a photo of the Avengers fighting some alien monster and saving the city.   
You picked up one of the magazines, flipping through the pages until you found the article about the crime fighters. There was a close-up photo of Hawkeye, and a memory from four years ago came flooding back into your mind.

_You sat at the bar, nursing a Mike’s Hard Strawberry Lemonade. Your friends had dragged you to some party at Stark Tower, claiming that the billionaire behind it was inviting everyone in the city. You pointed out that he was probably trying to get laid, and that made your friends want to go even more. So you were dragged along. You had initially planned on being the designated driver, but when the party turned out to be mostly slutty girls grinding up against the Avengers in a pathetic attempt to sleep with a celebrity, you decided that you needed alcohol to make it through the night. You could call a cab later.  
As you brought the bottle to your lips to down the remaining liquid, someone claimed the barstool beside you. You turned and raised a brow when you saw the famous Hawkeye sitting there.  
“You look lonely,” he said, having to yell to be heard over the music.  
“I’m not really a party girl,” you shrugged. Clint waved at the bartender, who soon brought you another bottle.  
“If you’re trying to get drunk, wine coolers aren’t gonna do it,” he commented.  
“I’m not really trying to do anything,” you countered. “I just need a distraction while my friends try to hit on Tony Stark.”  
He smirked and waved at the bartender again. This time he brought over a handful of shot glasses and some pink liquid.  
“You seem to like the fruity stuff,” he mused.  
You chuckled. “I drink for the taste, not the effects.”  
Clint offered you half of the strawberry lemonade Vodka shots the bartender had poured.   
“I’m Clint,” he introduced.  
“(y/n),” you responded.  
He lifted one up and waited for you to do the same.  
“To lame parties,” he toasted. You tapped your glass against his before downing it.  
“To friends ditching you for a one night stand,” you stated, lifting another shot.  
“To meeting pretty girls at the bar who can actually hold a conversation,” he finished, and you downed your last shots.  
“You think I’m pretty?” you grinned.  
“You’re gorgeous,” he replied. Was it the alcohol, or was he sitting much closer than he had been?   
You leaned in, your face inches from his. He closed his eyes and went for it, pressing his lips to yours. You could taste the Vodka on his lips and it sent a chill up your spine. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, and he responded by resting his hands on your hips.  
“I have a room here,” he muttered between kisses. “If you’re interested.”  
You nodded quickly, reluctantly ceasing your kisses so he could lead you away from the bar. He led you down the hall to his room, and the rest of the night was a blur of clothes flying and hands caressing skin._

You dropped the magazine and looked at your son – the product of your night with Hawkeye. You shook your head. The Avenger was long gone. It was just you and (s/n).

Clint wandered through the grocery store with Tony and Bruce at his sides.  
“Why do we have to do the shopping?” he groaned.  
“Because Pepper will neuter me if we don’t,” Tony replied. He shuffled down the dairy aisle, pulling a gallon of milk from the cold case and setting it in the cart. He caught a glimpse of (h/c) hair and raised a brow. “Hey, Birdboy. Isn’t that the girl you hooked up with a few years back?”  
“What?” Clint replied. There had been something about you that stuck in his mind after that night. He had wanted to get to know you better, but you were long gone after the party, and all he had to go on was a name.  
“Yeah, that’s totally her,” Tony grinned. They watched you pick out a couple bottles of coffee creamer while your son reached for a package of cookies across the aisle.  
“She has a kid now?” Bruce commented.  
“I wonder if he’s yours,” Tony added.  
“Nah,” Clint shook his head. “He can’t be mine. Our one night stand was over four years ago.”  
“Uh-huh,” Tony said, disbelievingly. “And how old do you think that kid is?”  
They gazed at your son and realization dawned.  
“He looks around four…” Clint breathed.  
“Hey!” Tony yelled, much to the archer’s dismay.  
You turned, half confused and half offended. “Excuse me?”  
Your eyes widened and your heart dropped when you saw who was standing a few feet away.  
“Is your name (y/n)?” the billionaire asked.  
“I-I… You’ve got the wrong girl,” you replied, turning on your heel and rushing out of the aisle.  
“That was definitely her,” Clint sighed.

They eventually found you again the ice cream aisle, letting your son pick out a flavor.  
“Hey,” Clint greeted, approaching you.  
“Hi there,” you responded, trying to be friendly.  
“Do you remember me?” he asked.  
“You’re Hawkeye, the famous Avenger,” you replied simply.  
His face fell. “Four years ago, I met you at one of Stark’s parties. Do you remember?”  
Damn. There was no getting out of it now. Looking at your son, you nodded stiffly.  
“I never thought I’d see you again,” he admitted. “I wanted to. You probably don’t believe me. I thought you seemed really cool, but I could never find you.”  
“Probably for the best,” you replied.  
“Is he mine?” Clint asked suddenly. You didn’t have to ask what he was talking about. You knew by the way he was staring at (s/n).  
You blew out a breath. “Yes.”  
“Why didn’t you tell me?”  
You stared at him. “What was I supposed to do? Waltz into Stark Tower, ask to speak with Hawkeye, and tell him he’s the father of my kid? It’s not like we’re high school sweethearts or long lost friends. It was a one night stand. Can you imagine how pathetic I would have sounded?”  
He cringed, not wanting to admit that you were right. “How old is he?”  
“Turned four last month,” you replied softly.  
“What’s his name?”  
“(s/n).”  
“Can I… hold him?”  
You stared at him before nodding. He carefully lifted your son from the basket, cradling him against his chest. (s/n) was surprisingly calm, staring up at the archer with wide eyes.  
“Hey there, buddy,” Clint cooed. “I’m Clint.”  
“Clint!” your son giggled in response. You smiled softly. They seemed to like each other.  
“You have no reason to give me a chance,” Clint began, still looking at your son. “But if you would let me… I would love to be part of his life. If I had known about him sooner, I would have been. I would have found a way to be there. Please… Let me be with my son.”  
You nodded. “Okay. It’s not like we had some awful falling out. We just didn’t have a relationship. I don’t see why you don’t deserve a chance.”  
He beamed at you, placing (s/n) back in the cart.  
“Come over for dinner tonight,” you suggested. You tore a page out of your notebook and scribbled down your address. “Then we can work something out for visits.”  
“Thank you,” he breathed. He pulled you into a quick hug which you didn’t protest. You smiled at him as he returned to Tony and Bruce. He waved goodbye to (s/n), who eagerly waved back. You finished your shopping and headed home, more excited for dinner than you had been in a long time.


	32. Mine - SMUT

Mine  
Request for Faze  
“Hey could you possibly do a Clint Barton X reader smut? Maybe they get in a fight and it ends in angry sex?  
Thanks~”  
   
        “I can’t believe you don’t trust me!” you screamed at the archer, turning away from him. Your hands fisted angrily in your own hair as you took a deep breath.  
        “I never said I didn’t trust you!” he cried in response. “It’s them I don’t trust!”  
        “Clint, you should know by now that I only love you. I would never even think about flirting with another guy. Why can’t you understand that?”  
        “That doesn’t stop them from staring at you like a piece of meat!”  
        “Why are you angry with me? Get angry with them!”  
        “I am angry at them! Why are you angry at me?”  
        “Because you don’t trust me!”  
        You let out a scream and turned away again. For a month now, Clint had become very protective, almost like a strict parent. He didn’t want you to leave the apartment without him, because he had begun noticing random men on the street staring at you as you walked by. At first you thought he just worried for your safety, because the city had been in danger lately. But when the two of you went for a walk, you saw how he glared at every male you passed, and you understood where his sudden protective attitude came from.  
        …Which led to your current fight. You felt like Clint didn’t trust you since he wouldn’t let you go out alone, but he insisted that it was the other men he didn’t trust.  
        He stood in front of you and placed his hands on your hips. You tried to twist out of his hold, too angry at him to let him hold you.  
        He tangled a hand in your hair, tilting your head up so he could capture your lips in a searing kiss. All arguments were lost as his hand in your hair tightened and he pressed you into the wall behind you. He tugged your head back and peppered hot open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing here and there to nibble and suck on your skin. A gasp flew from your lips as your hands found his hair, tangling your fingers in it as he ravished your neck. His other hand slid up under your shirt, resting on your bare hip, squeezing the flesh there.  
        “Do you understand now?” he whispered huskily against your skin. “I can’t stand when other guys so much as look at you.”  
        You moaned softly when he bit down at the junction where your neck met your shoulder. Had Clint simply been jealous?  
        “You.” Nibble. “Are.” Lick. “Mine.” Bite.  
        You moaned louder and tilted your head back, giving him more access. Both of his hands left their previous positions and rested on the backs of your thighs, lifting you up. You spread your legs and wrapped them around his waist, groaning when he pressed you harder against the wall. You could almost feel his arousal through his jeans and it spurred you on, tightening your legs around him. Your hands remained in his hair as his lips found your collarbone, leaving a line of hickeys across your skin.  
        You could feel your wetness growing in your thin panties. Your legs were bare under your skirt, allowing your skin to rub against his waist and add to your own arousal. His hands slid up to squeeze your ass and you let out another moan.  
        “Clint,” you breathed, tugging on his hair to detach his lips from your neck. You dipped your head to kiss his lips which were red from lavishing your skin.  
        “(y/n),” he replied just as breathless, pulling your waist closer to his.  
        “Were you jealous?” you inquired with a slight smirk. A growl fell from his lips and he kissed you passionately. He tugged at your lower lip with his teeth, sucking it into his mouth. Your mouth fell open against his with a moan.  
        Using the wall to hold you up, he slid a hand around the front of your waist and under your skirt. He ran a finger against your damp panties, causing your hips to quiver and a whimper to escape your throat.  
        He grinned against your lips. “That’s my girl. You want me, don’t you?”  
        You simply whimpered in response, trying to wiggle your hips for more attention.  
        He pressed his finger against your panties again but with more pressure. “I asked you a question, baby.”  
        “Yes,” you moaned, clawing at his shoulders.  
        “Yes, what?” he teased, his fingers tracing the edge of your panties.  
        “Yes, I want you,” you admitted shamelessly.  
        “That’s my girl.” With that, his finger slipped under your panties, sliding up and down along your slit. You gasped and rocked your hips against his hand, moaning when his finger slipped into your entrance with ease. Being pinned against the wall had aroused you more than enough for him to have his way with you.  
        “Stand up for a second,” he murmured, lowering you to the ground. You stood on shaky legs, still spread out of habit. His hands hooked into the waistband of your panties, kneeling down and bringing the fabric down with him. He grabbed your lower leg, gesturing for you to step out of the material. He then slid his hands up your legs, pressing kisses along your inner thigh. His head disappeared under the fabric of your mini skirt and his tongue lightly traced your slit. You arched your back against the wall, moaning loudly. His hands grabbed your ass, pulling your heat close to his face as he dove in. Your hands dug into his shoulders as he worked you with his tongue, alternating between sliding his tongue in and out of your entrance and swirling it around your clit. He could tell you were close when your moans got louder and more desperate, and that’s when he finally let up. Just as your knot was ready to explode, he removed his tongue from your heat and stood up, returning his lips to yours.  
        You didn’t even mind the taste of yourself on his tongue as he made quick work of his belt, unbuttoning his pants so his arousal could be freed. He hoisted your legs up and around his waist again, his manhood pressing against your extra wet sex.  
        “Who makes you feel good?” he asked huskily, thrusting into you without warning. Your head fell back against the wall as a moan ripped from your throat. Your thighs tightened around his waist and you tangled a hand in his short brown locks.  
        “You do,” you barely managed as he thrust into you roughly.  
        “That’s my girl,” he groaned, his thrusts increasing speed as his hands held your hips. Your wetness around his manhood was almost too much for him, bringing him to the edge faster than usual. He kept going at a steady pace, knowing it drove you insane.  
        “This is what happens to me when I see them look at you,” he whispered, his hips slamming against yours. “I see the hungry look in their eyes and I think, ‘Only I can look at her like that. Only I can hold her naked body against mine’.”  
        “Only you,” you assured him, your mouth falling open in a silent scream when he angled his hips to hit just the right spot inside you. Within moments, you were falling apart, your walls exploding with pleasure. Your hips jerked as your orgasm overwhelmed you, but Clint’s thrusts didn’t falter. They sped up as he neared his own release, his face buried in your neck.  
        “You’re mine,” he groaned, biting at the skin.  
        “All yours,” you agreed. His hips sped up more before pausing as his release took over. He moaned against your skin, his thrusts slowing to a stop inside you.  
        He stood there for a moment, still inside you, holding you against the wall. Neither of you had the energy to move.  
        “Next time you get jealous, just take me home,” you told him, holding his face in your hands.  
        “It will end like this,” he replied, gazing into your eyes.  
        You grinned. “That’s what I’m counting on.”  
        His grin matched yours as he brought you in for another kiss. He eventually pulled out of you and carried you to the bedroom where you both stripped from your sweaty clothes and ended up falling asleep in each other’s arms.


	33. Don't You Forget About Me

Don't You Forget About Me  
Request for Faze  
A/N: If someone finds her will you tag her for me please? I can't find her account.  
I modified the request because every other amnesia story I've done has been somehow mission related and I wanted it to be different. I also forgot while I was writing it that you wanted the reader to push people away so... Sorry.  
I haven't written one this long in quite some time. Also the ending kinda sucks, I'm sorry.  
"Hi, I absolutely love your Avenger one shots, and I was wondering if you could do one for Clint? The reader gets hurt in a mission and loses her memories. Then, she pushes away everyone, and breaks Clint's heart. But at the end she remembers everything."

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as warm fingers slipped between yours, a warm hand squeezing your own. You looked up at the owner of the hand - your boyfriend, Clint. You finally had a day off from your hectic lives as Avengers, and you opted for a romantic walk through town. It had begun with a pit stop to your favorite cafe, but his large Americano and your (f/drink) had long since been drank and discarded, so your hands were free to intertwine and show the world how in love you were. It was a nice day, sunny but not too hot, so you could hold hands without sweating.   
You came to an intersection whose "Walk" light was just beginning its countdown, so you quickly shuffled your way through the crosswalk before the timer ran out. Unfortunately, New York drivers were unpredictable, and someone decided to turn without waiting for you to finish crossing.  
All you heard was Clint yelling your name and a horn honking before you were forced onto your back, staring up at the sky in a daze before your world faded to black.

Your eyelids fluttered open with a groan on your lips. Groggy and disoriented, you could hear voiced murmuring outside the door, but you had yet to discover where you were or why. Eyes finally open, your gaze wandered around the room, taking in the tacky floral wallpaper and bright white lights on the ceiling. A TV was posted in the left corner and there was a nightstand full of flowers and "get well" cards beside you. Looking down, you saw a hospital gown and scratchy blankets and a remote to allow you to contact the nurse.  
With some difficulty, you forced yourself into a sitting position. You hissed as your back rubbed against the pillows. What the hell has happened to you? Your head was throbbing and you honestly couldn't recall what you had done that landed you in the hospital.  
A sweet-looking woman wearing nurse scrubs entered the room, a soft smile accenting her face. "Oh, you're awake. We were worried about you."  
"What happened?" you tried to ask, but your voice was raspy from lack of use. The nurse handed you a cup of ice water with a straw, allowing you to swallow half its contents before responding.  
"You were hit by a car," she explained. "The driver turned without waiting for you to cross the street and he hit you."  
Well, that explained everything hurting.  
"Would you like me to send your visitors in?"  
You looked up at her. "I have visitors?"  
She nodded eagerly. "Quite a few of them. They've been waiting for you to wake up."  
You chewed your lip. "Okay," you agreed, though you had no idea who would want to see you.  
She left and a moment later, a handful of people entered the room. There was a short, redheaded woman, her brows furrowed in concern; a taller man with dark brown hair and a goatee; a brunette who stood just a few inches taller than the redhead; and the most worried appeared to be a man with short brown hair and tan skin. He sat on the edge of your bed and took your hand in both of his. Your brows furrowed and you pulled your hand back.  
"Who are you?" you asked all of them. "Why are you here?"  
They all seemed surprised, and the man closest to you seemed heartbroken by your reaction.  
"She has amnesia..." the one with facial hair realized.  
"That makes things more complicated," said the redhead.  
"Who the hell are you?" you repeated.   
"You don't remember?" the tan brunet asked softly. You shook your head.  
"The last thing I remember is being in a car with my mom, and a drunk driver drifted into our lane..."  
The man looked down. "That's how your mother died... Five years ago."  
"Five years?" you whispered. "What's happened since then? Why don't I remember?"  
"We'll talk to Banner," the other male stated. "I'm sure he can explain it."  
They all bid their awkward goodbyes and left, leaving you to wonder what you had done for the last five years.

"The last thing she remembers is the car accident?" Bruce clarified as he stood in his lab, facing his friends.  
Clint nodded sadly. "She has no idea who we are."  
"She didn't meet us until after," Bruce reminded. "Her brain must have reset itself to the last traumatic event she experienced. It's common with amnesia. It's better than wiping her memory completely."  
"Does that mean her memories will come back?" Clint asked hopefully.  
Bruce smiled sadly. "There's always a chance. But there's also a chance they won't. Amnesia is finicky - it's never the same."  
The archer sighed, sitting down and dropping his hands to his lap. Wanda stood by him, rubbing his shoulder. The two of you had been through so much tog ether, and only a year ago had he finally gotten the courage to ask you out. And now you didn't know that last year had even happened.

The next day, that same group of people came to see you. You knew they meant no harm, but it was still hard for you. You didn't recognize any of them.  
"This is going to be hard to accept," the redhead told you. "We're your friends. You've been living with us for a little over four years. Getting hit by that car scrambled your memory and blocked out the last five years."  
That made as much sense as anything you had come up with, so you simply nodded.  
"Will you let us try to jog your memory?" the man with facial hair asked. "Introduce ourselves, show you pictures, tell you stories...?"  
You let out a sigh. "I guess there's no harm in that."  
He smiled and offered his hand. "Tony Stark."  
"Stark?" you asked, shaking his hand. "Like Stark Tower?"  
He grinned proudly. "Aw, she remembers my tower."  
"My mom always told me that the Stark heir was a brat."  
The redhead hid her laugh behind a short while the brunet laughed outright.  
Tony pouted and retracted his hand, letting the others have their turns.  
"Natasha Romanoff," the redhead stated.  
"Wanda Maximoff," added the brunette.  
"Clint Barton," the last one sighed. You tilted your head.  
"Why do you sound more upset than they do?" you finally inquired.  
He looked up at you, and you could see the brokenness in his ocean blue eyes.  
"Are you sure you want me to answer that?"  
You nodded slowly. He took your hand again, and this time you let him.  
"We've been dating for a year."  
Your eyes widened and you looked at the other three. They all nodded solemnly. Your heart broke for the man sitting before you, but you still didn't remember him.  
"I'm sorry," was all you could whisper.  
His brow furrowed. His disappointment was evident, but he didn't blame you.  
"Picture time," Natasha said, sitting on your other side. She had brought a homemade photo album and handed it to you, letting you flip through it. You took it in both hands, setting it on your lap and opening the first page. There were three pictures - one with you in between Natasha and Wanda, one of you and Tony making faces, and one of Clint wrapping his arms around you.  
"Anything look familiar?" Tony asked.  
You shook your head softly and flipped to the next page. The first picture you saw was a bouquet of (f/flowers). The caption below said "First date with Clint." You looked over at him and he nodded softly.  
"It took me several months to pluck up the courage to ask you out," he smiled. "I bought you flowers and asked if you would go to dinner with me. I never dreamed you would say yes."  
His expression tugged at your heartstrings, but it didn't spark anything.  
The nurse entered the room with a smile. "Good news. (Y/n), all of your vitals are good. You're ready to go home. Just get dressed and I'll sign it your discharge papers."  
"We'll leave you to change," Tony said, gesturing for his friends to follow.  
"Will you... Wait for me?" you asked softly.  
Clint smiled. "Of course we will."  
"We'll be in the waiting room," Natasha promised.  
The nurse handed you your clothes as they left, and you dressed quickly, wanting to go with them.

You rode to Stark Tower in the backseat of a sleek black Mustang. Clint and Wanda sat beside you while Natasha rode shotgun. Once at the Tower, they let you look around before taking you inside.   
"Is it just us?" you wondered.  
"More people live here," Tony said, "but we asked them to leave for now so you can get used to it again."  
"We didn't want to overwhelm you," Clint added.  
You nodded, appreciating the consideration. They led you to the living room, giving you a tour of the tower. Neither the living room nor the kitchen seemed familiar, so they led you to your bedroom.  
You stepped inside, expecting a rush of recollection. No such luck. It was a nice room, and felt like you, but it didn't feel like it was yours.  
"We'll leave you to settle in," Natasha sighed. You knew they were tired. You knew they wanted to help. But no one knew how.  
You caught Clint's hand as he turned to leave. "Would you stay with me?"  
He smiled softly. "I'd love to."  
"That's not weird, right? We've spent the night together before?"  
He nodded. "I spend more time in your room than I do my own."  
A giggle forced itself through your lips. "We could watch a movie or something."  
He nodded, bidding his friends goodnight. He sat on your bed and turned on the tv. It was already on to your favorite movie, so he opened his arms to you. You turned off the light and crawled into bed, sitting beside him. Your memories had yet to return, but you felt comfortable with him, so you snuggled into his side. His heart warmed at the contact and he wrapped his arms around you.  
"This is okay?" he clarified.  
You nodded, your head on his shoulder. "I feel comfortable with you."  
You eventually fell asleep, turning to snuggle into his chest.

Your eyes fluttered open the next morning, taking a moment to adjust to your surroundings. You were in your room, and a grin split your lips. Your room!  
You looked down at the man beside you, burying your face in his neck. He grunted, signaling that he was awake.  
"Morning," he murmured. "How are you feeling?"  
You kissed him passionately. "I remember everything."  
He grinned, rolling over so that he hovered above you. "Then we have some catching up to do."


End file.
